Devil's In The Details
by leoandsnake
Summary: It's Harry's fifth year, and he's got to add Potions tutoring from Malfoy on top of the DA, Quidditch, and Occlumency. HP/DM.
1. Opening

_A/N_:_ I plan for this to be a long and extensive fic that will stretch into post Hogwarts. It's also very canon, I'm trying to follow the canon OotP plot closely. _

"Potter, this is truly... dismal."

Snape lazily fingered the ladle in Harry's cauldron as the class shifted in their seats to look Harry's direction; snickers broke out from the Slytherin throng in the back of the room.

Harry's jaw clenched. He stared at the table in front of him, not giving Snape the satisfaction of eye contact.

"Truly," Snape repeated. "I'm sadly ignorant of the nuances of your brain, but I imagine it is either halfway on or completely turned off. Potter, see me after class."

He strode away from their table.

"What an unbelieveable prat," Ron muttered. "It wasn't even that bad. Sorry, Harry."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry said stiffly. He was already retreating back into his mind, what had just happened fading blankly away.

The class ended abruptly, at least for Harry, who started at the sound of the bell. Ron had already begun shoving his things in his bag.

"Harry, if you could use extra help in Potions," Hermione whispered to him gently as she patted him on the shoulder. Harry had a vivid feeling of being handled with kid gloves. The way he had been acting this year, he wouldn't suspect they all thought him on the verge of collapse.

Which he might be.

"Thanks, Hermione," he murmured as they headed toward the door with the rest of the class. She nodded at him and smiled and was gone.

"Malfoy, stay a moment as well," Snape said. It took Harry a second to process that. He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder.

Draco was leaning on the closed door, looking at Snape. Harry might as well have not been in the room.

"Due to the headmaster's insistence that I not let you fail out of this class, Potter," Snape said, "I am assigning Malfoy to you as your tutor."

For some reason, Draco reacted as if he had expected this, with a curt nod of the head, still ignoring Harry's presence.

"Every Tuesday night, seven o' clock, until your performance in my class drastically adjusts, Potter," Snape said. "You're dismissed."

"Wait, sir, why--why--" Harry couldn't figure out a way to properly phrase "why Malfoy, of all bloody damned people on the planet," but Snape cut him off.

"Why Malfoy? He has the highest marks in my class, and the most natural talent at Potions. It is not a conundrum, Potter, or a riddle."

Draco smirked, his face shadowed slightly as he glanced at Harry. Harry couldn't read his eyes.

"Fine," Harry said woodenly, making as if to exit. Draco moved swiftly from the doorway as Harry walked out into the hallway, feeling as if he had just added a hundred pounds to a load already too heavy to bear.

* * *

"I don't get it," Ron said.

"What?" Harry said, moving over on the common room couch so Hermione could sit down.

"It's just that your excuse for..." Ron dropped his voice, "...Occulumency lessons is that you're taking remedial Potions. Why would you be tutored by Snape _and_ Malfoy in Potions?"

"Someone has it out for me?" Harry said drily. His mind wandered. Of course, someone _did_ have it out for him, but that was a seperate matter.

"You need a new excuse," Ron said, twigging to Lavender Brown laughing loudly across the room and watching her for a moment. "Like Snape is, er... giving you year long detention, or something."

"Harry?" Ginny said, creeping up to them. "Is there a DA meeting soon? Please say there is."

"I haven't checked my schedule, yet," Harry said, rubbing his scar as it prickled uncomfortably. "Why?"

"Oh, Umbridge is just so awful," Ginny said dully, leaning her elbows on the back of the couch. "I hate the Ministry," she added.

Hermione shook her head. "The Ministry is fine, it's who's in charge is the problem."

"Fudge," Harry said. "With the Malfoys in his pocket." He snorted with resigned amusement.

"Oh, this is so irritating," Hermione huffed. "I could teach you so much more than Malfoy could, Harry. And you'd actually be willing to learn from me, too."

"I'm fine with it," Harry said, grimacing. "Quidditch. Practice. When."

"Wednesday," Ron said.

Harry put his head in his lap as his scar burned more intensely. He was feeling a little giddy for no reason at all. His eyelids ached.

"We have Divination homework," Ron said. Harry felt rather than heard Ginny leave, the couch cushion next to him springing up in the abscence of her weight.

Ron paused. "Are you all right, Harry?"

How tired he was of hearing that. "Fine," Harry said into his lap, his mouth twisting from the familiarity of that word. He said it so often it didn't mean anything anymore. With disdain, he mouthed "Malfoy" into his thighs. His breath was warm.

"Fuck," Harry murmured for no reason at all. He wondered it he was going to be discontent forever.

* * *

"You're late, Potter," Draco said as Harry entered the dungeon, which looked twice as foreboding as it did during the day.

Harry bit his tongue to keep from retorting. Instead, he sat down with a proviso of "No shit," and opened his Potions book.

"Draught of Peace," Draco said flatly, without making eye contact. "Make it."

Harry flipped to the correct page and began rifling through his page for ingredients.

Draco began to tap his quill on the desk.

"Could you not, Malfoy?" Harry said irritably.

Draco made some half-snort noise and set the quill on the desk with irritating exactitude.

Harry set the hellebore on his desk and soon the potion was bubbling. It was lightly fragrant. He was not surprised he was better at Potions in the company of Draco Malfoy as opposed to Snape. He hated them both, but Draco didn't make him feel inept, just extremely irritated.

He was about to add moonstone to the potion when Draco's hand shot out and stopped his.

"What?" Harry demanded, jerking away from Draco's touch.

"It's_ powdered _moonstone, you imbecile," Draco said through his teeth.

Harry barely refrained from saying what he actually thought at that moment. "Whatever."

Draco sat back in his chair and fiddled with the quill some more as Harry sweated over the potion. Finally, he asked, "Is that it?"

Draco peered into the cauldron. "It's crap," he said definitively.

"As much as I value your opinion, Malfoy, I asked whether that was it or not."

"I guess," Draco said dismissively.

Harry felt his temper rising slightly. His fists curled. "Yes or no?"

"Yes, fine, but it's not going to get you a passing OWL," Draco snapped, sitting back down.

"Who cares?" Harry demanded.

"Not me," Draco responded coolly. It seemed the more flustered and angry Harry got, the more unruffled and calm Draco became, which was beyond infuriating.

"Fine," Harry replied through gritted teeth. "Next Tuesday, then." He grabbed his bag off of the chair with such force it clattered over, knocking into his cauldron. Draught of Peace spilled onto the floor.

Harry strode out of the dungeons burning with fury. He couldn't wait until the match against Slytherin.


	2. Nerves

"Harry," Hermione's voice cut in, "wake up."

"I'm not asleep," Harry insisted, sitting up. He had been lying on his unfinished Transfiguration homework, half dozing, but he had not, in fact, fallen asleep.

"You've got a bit of ink on your cheek, mate," Ron added helpfully.

"Oh, bugger," Harry said, staring helplessly at the pile of homework in front of him.

"Also, you have Occlumency tomorrow," Hermione said. She met Harry's eyes. "I'm sorry, but you do, it's Wednesday," she squeaked, noting the look on his face.

"So how was last night?" Ron said conversationally. "Also, what in the hell is Alihotsy?"

"Stupid," Harry replied.

"Well, it's going to be a little stupid, you're being taught Potions by a ferret," Ron said, eliciting ample snorts of laughter from Harry and the nearby Seamus.

"Herb that induces... hysteria," Hermione said distractedly.

"Oh, good, I'm sure knowing that's going to help me loads in life," Ron said, finishing his Potions essay with a flourish. "Foot of parchment, right?"

"Foot and a _half_," Hermione corrected him, and slid off of the couch to kneel in front of the crackling common room fire. "It's been awfully cold lately," she said with a shiver.

"A foot and... you're kidding," Ron said with dismay.

"Sorry. Take it up with Snape."

"I haven't even started that," Harry said, dread creeping into his chest. "Maybe Malfoy can help me with it."

There was a beat.

"I was kidding!" Harry said, laughing, as Fred shouted to the second years, "I'm sure the side effects will go away... we're looking for an antidote for the, er... Yeah, I'd go to the hospital wing if I were you, Creevey..."

Ron laughed. "So you've got Malfoy on Tuesday, Snape on Wednesday, and Trelawney on Thursday... blimey, thank God for weekends, right?"

"How many times do you think do you think I can skive off Malfoy until he notices?" Harry said, moving onto the unfinished Divination. Ron guffawed on the couch.

"Have you had any dreams lately, Harry?" Hermione said, dropping her voice and turning to look at him.

"No," Harry lied.

She gave him a look.

"They're... I'm fine, Hermione." He didn't want to tell anyone about the corridor -- not in the common room, anyway.

* * *

"It's so simple, Potter," Draco hissed, his voice silkier than ever.

"But you're making no bloody sense!" Harry shouted, his forehead wet with sweat, the potion bubbling away dankly in his cauldron.

"I can't grow you a brain, Potter!" Draco yelled, his cool facade seeming to snap.

Harry strode toward Draco, pulling his wand out at the same time. Draco stared hatefully at him as Harry pressed the wand into his chest.

"Teach me how to do it," Harry said quietly. "And make some fucking _sense_."

The awful week had passed and Harry's nerves were only strained further. The DA meeting on Friday had been disastrous, ending in a flaming couch cushion, Pavarti Patil being turned into a peacock, and Neville losing his head entirely and dousing the entire room in champagne. Harry wasn't even sure how that last one had happened.

"I'm making as much sense as I can," Draco spat. "It's not my fault you can't get it."

"It's not my fault you're a shit teacher!" Harry shouted, glaring at Draco as the Hate Potion slop slimily down the sides of the cauldron.

"First of all, you put the ingredients in the second line in five minutes too soon," Draco said, cutting in front of Harry and waving his wand -- the potion disappeared.

"I waited fifteen minutes," Harry snapped.

"You're supposed to wait twenty," Draco said, delivering every word in this sentence so sycophantically Harry wanted to smack him.

"I'll make it over then!" Harry yelled.

Draco glanced at his watch. "It's too late for that," he drawled. "Tutor session is over."

"Thank God," Harry replied viciously. Draco picked up his bag and unsubtly knocked into Harry on their way out. Harry ground his teeth.

* * *

"Get up, Potter."

Harry stumbled to his feet. His knees had begun to ache in earnest.

"What was that dream?" Snape said.

"The one about the orange juice and Dobby?"

"The one about Malfoy," Snape said softly.

"I don't know." He had dreamed Draco was on the roof of the Dursley's house and insisting Harry catch him; Harry refused, and suddenly he was walking down the corridor again. "I don't know." He didn't meet Snape's eyes.


	3. Jangling

_A/N: I debated for a while on using this as the next chapter or not, but I eventually gave in to myself. There's something about it I love -- some wild kinetic energy that seems to capture what I think Harry would feel, going through this._

The Slytherins were getting fairly agitated.

The Keeper, Miles Bletchey, had taken to indiscriminately tripping members of the Gryffindor team in the hallway, although Fred and George had stuffed him in a rubbish bin several times.

There was only one Tuesday left before the match, and Harry made his way to the dungeons carefully. He had a feeling Draco was going to prove himself particularly hard to ignore this evening.

However, the only thing Draco said when Harry walked in the door was, "Draught of Living Death," and pointed to the open Potions book lying at Harry's seat. Since they hadn't been working on this potion, Harry assumed he was just supposed to read about it.

"How do you have the best grade in this class, Malfoy?" Harry said suddenly. It had been bothering him since Snape said it.

"You mean how am I doing better than your Mudblood friend?" Draco said, his lip curling.

Harry took a very steadying breath. Keep your nose clean. Fight like Malfoy does.

"Yes, I'm curious how a stupid inbred pureblood has the best marks," Harry spat, fully aware he was insulting Sirius and his own father.

The smirk ebbed away from Draco's face. "Fuck you, Potter," he replied.

"No really, tell me, I assumed marrying your cousins could only make your children _dumber_," Harry said. "Or is your head so far up Snape's ass you can actually make him give you good marks, like a puppet?"

Draco's wand was out and he was rising slowly to his feet. Harry stood up as well, feeling anger and some unnamed emotion coursing through him. His hand was clenched on his wand. _I will not tell lies_ flashed in white.

"I wasn't aware that living with filthy Muggles made you smarter, Potter," Draco hissed. His grey eyes were flooded with volatility. "Maybe you'd know. Or maybe..."

Harry was crackling with anger. _Don't you even dare, you little piece of shit,_ he thought.

"Maybe your mother would," he hissed.

Abandoning all pretenses of magical combat, Harry flung himself at Draco, tackling him to the floor. He began to punch him wildly, but Draco had a good grip on Harry's left wrist and was pinning it away from him awkwardly.

They struggled against each other, rolling around the floor of the dungeon, shouting curses and hexes and insults that had no effect with their wands lying feet away.

Harry managed to pin Draco between a desk and a chair, lying on top of him, and pressed his wand against Draco's throat. Draco spluttered and choked.

Harry glared into his face, hating every inch of Draco.

But even as he thought that, a prickle of tension went through his body. His scar twinged slightly and he had the oddest sensation. It was familiar, but it had no place in this situation, and Harry couldn't quite place it...

He was getting an erection. A hell of an erection, at that.

The moment that thought crossed his mind, Harry gasped slightly and jerked away, but not soon enough that he didn't feel the exact same thing going on with Draco.

They stared into each other's eyes with utter horror for a moment. Harry scrambled to his feet, grabbed his wand off the floor, and ran.

* * *

He was sickened.

"Harry, are you sure you're all right?" Ron said for the third time that hour. He and Hermione were peering at him concernedly.

No. Not at all. "I'm fine," he insisted.

"You'd better be okay for the match," Ron said.

"I'm fine, Ron!" Harry said so loudly a nearby second year leapt into the air and rushed to get away from him.

"He doesn't sound fine to me," Fred remarked as he flopped down next to Harry. "Does he, George?"

"No, I'd say he doesn't," George agreed as he sat on Harry's other side.

Harry buried his face in his hands.

"I think our dear Harry is suffering," Fred said. "I haven't seen him look this morose in _ages_."

"Not since the whole Nimbus and Whomping Willow thing," George said. "Well come on then, let's go flying, if Snape hasn't booked the pitch for the Slytherins at... " He checked his watch. "... at nine o' clock at night."

"I'll be fine," Harry muttered.

"Good news!" Angelina said, bounding over to them. "The match is a lock!"

"What?" Harry said, raising his head.

"Malfoy resigned! Went straight to Flint and resigned, just now! They're barely going to be able to find another Seeker in time, let alone train one --"

"What?" Harry repeated, louder.

"I don't know the details, Harry," Angelina huffed.

"This is great!" Fred beamed. He threw an arm around Angelina and they hurried off together, talking in hushed tones. George returned to the stack of order forms he had left near a group of younger students milling around.

"You wouldn't know anything about this, Harry?" Hermione said, looking at him. "You look very..."

"No," Harry said. "I need to take a walk." The walls were closing in on him and the fire was impossibly hot. It was going to burn him alive.

He fled the building, throwing his Invisibility Cloak on as he went. Harry stopped by the lake and just sat on the bank in the freezing cold.

He stared into the distance at the snow-capped mountains and willed himself to wake up from this sick, twisted dream.

Harry couldn't ignore it. If Malfoy had _resigned_ -- good fucking _God_, he had _resigned_! -- that made this very real.

Maybe it had been a fluke, Harry rationalized. Maybe they had just been so angry... maybe... their dicks got confused, or something.

But it couldn't have been a fluke. He had gone and gotten rid of the urge afterwards, in the privacy of the bathroom, and he couldn't keep Malfoy out of his mind while he did it. It was damn impossible.

Harry sighed as his scar burned in the cool night.

Who was he anymore?


	4. Understatements

_A/N: Totally effed up on continuity here -- the match against Slytherin is usually in November, and I'm having it take place somewhere in the chapter 'Occlumency', which is after Christmas. So, sorry for that. :( _

"Eat something, Ron," Harry said woodenly. It was the morning of the match, and everything was straining his nerves, including Ron's malaise and general fumbliness.

Ron just stared off into the distance, pale and slightly green. "No thanks," he said weakly.

Harry stabbed his toast and looked up at the Slytherin table again.

"Harry," Hermione said, flipping through her Transfiguration textbook, "you're... You're sure you're all right? Because you don't seem well, Harry."

"The next time someone asks me if I'm all right," Harry said in a low voice, "I will become very not all right."

Hermione made a little huffy noise and returned to her book.

"Harry, what if I fall off my broom?" Ron said suddenly.

"Angelina won't be very happy," Harry said drily, stabbing his toast again.

"But, you know," Ron said, "I'm going to drop the Quaffle."

"Ron, if you don't drop the Quaffle, you won't drop the Quaffle," Harry said, his patience growing thinner. His gaze flicked to the Slytherin table.

"I can't believe Malfoy resigned from the team," Hermione said. "That is very, very odd."

"Why do you care?" Harry said, a little more harshly than he meant. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, noting the reproachful look she was giving him. "Just... headache..." He checked his watch. "We should go, Ron."

"Yeah," Ron responded. "Go. We should." He made no move to get up.

"No, I mean, right now, people are leaving for the pitch," Harry said, standing up.

As they exited the Great Hall, a throng of Slytherins surrounded the door in a crescent shape. Marcus Flint stormed out, followed by green and silver clad students.

"Hey, Weasley!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked. "It's your last chance to chicken out before you wake up in St. Mungo's!"

Ron turned scarlet.

"Just... ignore them," Harry muttered, pulling Ron through the crowd.

* * *

They were going to win, Harry knew.

"I don't want anyone getting complacent," Angelina said, surverying them all with a steely glint in her eye.

"Angelina, Malfoy can't even beat Harry on a good day, how is some blundering git that's been on the team two days going to?" Fred said boredly. "Skip the pep talk."

"Fred," she said warningly. She turned to Ron. "Listen, Ron, I know you're not that confident about how you've been doing in practice, but this is game day. So... suck it up."

"Thanks," Ron said sarcastically, still looking rather green.

Somewhere in the distance, a whistle blew.

"That's it, then," Angelina said, and the entire team rose to their feet.

The first thing Harry saw as they walked out on the pitch was that Draco was mercifully absent. The second was that the entire Slytherin section of the crowd seemed to be sporting badges that glinted in the cold afternoon sun. His stomach sank.

This couldn't be good.

"Shake hands," Madame Hooch instructed Angelina and Marcus. Marcus pumped her hand so hard it seemed like he was trying to rip it off. Angelina just set her jaw.

And they were off.

The new Slytherin Seeker looked like he couldn't find his ass with both hands and a map, and in fact was just circling the pitch as if hoping to run into the Snitch by blind luck. Harry grinned to himself.

This was going to be good.

The Slytherin section appeared to be cheering... no wait, they were singing. Harry braked in the air for a moment.

"_Weasley is our king,_

_Weasley is our king_

_He always lets the Quaffle in_

_Weasley is our king..."_

Shit, Harry swore to himself, swerving around. He had to find that Snitch.

"And Katie Bell's scored," Lee's magnified voice cut into Harry's thoughts.

And then he saw it, glittering at the far end of the pitch. _That was it_.

Harry was off instantly, and he was closing in on it -- the Slytherin Seeker had only just begun to turn -- and his fingers were around the Snitch.

Harry whooped and shot upwards, holding it in his fist. There was tumultuous cheering from every section but Slytherin. Hermione was jumping up and down with excitement.

"That must be a record!" Lee exclaimed.

"I don't think it is," Professor McGonagall whispered.

"Gryffindor has the Snitch, Gryffindor wins!" Lee shouted, completely ignoring her.

* * *

As soon as Harry could get away from everyone patting him on the back and applauding him, he slipped up to the Gryffindor common room.

He stood for a minute above his bed, feeling the Invisibility Cloak between his fingers.

Harry did have to do this. He knew that. He was already fucked up enough. He didn't need this on his shoulders.

He slid the Invisibility Cloak on and exited the dormitory.

He didn't need this.

The object of the game would be to find a Slytherin, he thought as he walked, hopefully an older one who would know the password but wouldn't realize Harry was following him. That meant he had to find someone stupid or find someone who was pissed that Slytherin had lost.

Pansy Parkinson, he thought, spotting her across the hall. Perfect.

He followed her to the dungeons, as the air got colder and colder and the walls got slimier.

"Nightshade," she said stiffly. The hole in the wall opened and Harry just managed to slip in behind her.

"Blaise," Pansy sniffed, sitting down on the green and silver blanket draped couch. Harry hung nervously by a candle flickering on the wall. "Why weren't you at the match?"

"I didn't feel like it," Blaise said. "Why? What happened? Did, by some miracle of God, we win?"

"No," she replied.

"Well, color me shocked," he said drily, returning to his magazine.

"Stupid Potter," Pansy snarled. She sat forward, her elbows on her knees. "He had something to do with it."

"With Gryffindor winning? Clearly," Blaise replied, flipping the page.

"No, with Draco going all stupid on us! And quitting Quidditch, the dumb bastard! Where is he, anyway?"

"Dormitory," Blaise said.

_Bingo_, Harry thought, smiling to himself. He could only hope that Draco was alone, but he didn't see other Slytherins loitering around the common room.

He ascended the stairs carefully, making sure his feet were on carpet at all times, and slipped into the dormitory.

Draco was lying on his bed, writing a letter.

Looking around briefly, Harry pulled off the cloak and cleared his throat.

Draco looked up. He quickly masked his expression of dismay.

"Ceasefire," Harry said. "We need to talk."


	5. Realizations

Draco Malfoy folded his arms and looked up at Harry as he strode through the Slytherin dormitory. "Go, then."

"Why did you resign from the Quidditch team?" Harry said, trying to pass it off lighter than he did and feeling entirely out of his element.

"One of us had to."

"See, I disagree, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

Draco just looked at him. "So that's why you came all the way down here, Potter? Or do you just get your rocks off breaking rules?"

"Okay, _Snape_," Harry mocked him.

They continued to glare at each other for a moment before Draco sighed and began to rub his eyes like he hadn't slept in a week.

"Can we just go back to hating each other?" Harry said stiffly. "I really don't like this."

Draco looked up at him with a mix of apathy, loathing, and agreement Harry was certain it would be impossible to replicate.

"We could just pretend it never happened," Draco said with little to no conviction.

"But what happened?" Harry replied. "Damnit," he said to nobody in particular.

The tension in the room was distinct and crackly. You couldn't even cut it with a knife, Harry thought idly. You'd need a hatchet, a machete.

Harry sat down on the bed next to Draco. "What happened?" He repeated. He got the distinct feeling he was going to explode and was about to stand up and pace around the room when, apropos of utterly nothing, Draco leaned forward and kissed Harry very heatedly and abruptly.

Harry was aware of a vividly unpleasant sensation akin to stepping off of a very high cliff without knowing you were anywhere near a cliff. He flailed wildly and landed both of his hands on Draco's chest, pushing him away, panting like he had just run a mile.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Draco muttered, wiping his mouth, as they sat there in horror. "I think you should leave, Potter."

Harry made a few hasty decisions that he knew he was going to regret for the rest of the day and possibly his life, and he grabbed Draco by the back of the head and began to snog him.

They both moaned in needy unison and Harry shoved Draco flat on his back on the bed, skimming his body against Draco's and gaining entrance to his mouth with his tongue.

Draco ran his hands over Harry, arching his back, spluttering swear words and Harry's name as Harry kissed down his neck, running his tongue over the vibrating Adam's apple and pushing any other thoughts to the far corners of his mind.

Draco began to fumble with Harry's zipper and Harry fell back onto the sweaty silver and green sheets, panting furiously. He felt Draco's mouth on his dick. Harry closed his eyes tightly and sighed. His stomach was in his throat.

As soon as Draco had begun to skim Harry's shaft with his tongue, Harry couldn't stand it and came, his voice reaching a treble and his hands clenching on the bedding. He lay there for a moment in acute disbelief and ectasy, not willing to look Draco in the face.

After a few minutes of horrible, dark silence, he heard Draco hissing "_Scourgify_" over and over. He shoved Harry uncerimoniously off his bed and Harry was too weak to argue.

"I don't know if we can pretend nothing happened now," Harry muttered when Draco had finished.

"Why didn't you stop me?" Draco said, gritting his teeth.

"The thought didn't really occur to me!" Harry snapped, pulling his pants on. The ectasy had passed and now he was just feeling stupid and violated.

"There's really only one option," Draco said matter-of-factly, smoothing down his sheets. "You jump off the Astronomy Tower."

"Why do _I_ have to jump off the Astronomy Tower?"

"You're the martyr, Potter."

Harry sighed and slid his glasses on. He didn't even remember taking them off.

Draco folded his arms and looked at him. He said nothing as Harry pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and slipped out of the dormitory.


	6. Stupidly Enough

"_Lucius_," Harry said in the high, cold voice that was not his own, "_my patience seems to grow thinner every time I see you._"

Lucius Malfoy stood in front of him, the dim light bouncing off his white-blond hair. He seemed rather agitated.

"_My Lord,_" he said quietly, "_It is proving more difficult than we thought... The Ministry, you know --_"

Harry laughed a horrible, mirthless laugh. _"I do not seek to punish you gratuitously anymore, Lucius... But rest assured, if this does not work... I know where to find you._"

Harry woke with a start.

He sat up, sweaty and trembling.

Lucius... Ministry... he tried to hold onto the dream, but as soon as he did, it was gone.

It was replaced with a deep sense of shame.

Harry lay back against the pillows. Snoring cloaked the room.

Maybe that was all a dream, too, he thought idly. No, it couldn't be.

It was all his fault, of course, for going down there. Draco had been right, he thought angrily, they couldn't be around each other.

Harry pushed this out of his mind and glanced at his clock. There was a D.A. meeting tonight, he thought with relief.

* * *

"That's great, Neville," Harry said encouragingly.

He had just stunned Hermione, who had fallen back onto a rouge-red cushion. Ron glanced over worriedly from where he was practicing with Seamus.

"Okay, everyone," Harry said, and blew his whistle. "Er... I think we should try some blocking today, so take turns Stupefying your partner and they'll try to block it. It doesn't matter what you use, as long as it's effective."

"Hey, Harry," Cho said as she rushed up to him. "Listen, I haven't gotten a chance to see you since that article came out..."

Harry fought with inner turmoil for a moment. "Hullo," he said shortly. "How've you been?"

"Busy," she said. "You know, I'm really glad you're doing this."

"What, the D.A.?" Harry replied, thinking of a few choice things he could say to her, but feeling too guilty to go ahead with it.

"Of course," Cho replied quickly. She glanced over her shoulder. "I'll be there in a minute, Marietta," she called out.

She turned back to Harry. "Listen," she said carefully. "I was thinking --"

"Harry," Hermione said, bounding over.

Cho's mouth got very thin.

"The curtains were on fire, but I got them," she told him. "Oh, hello, Cho."

"Hello," Cho said stiffly, walking away.

"Harry!" Fred yelled from across the room. "The curtains are on fire!"

"I got that, thanks Fred," Harry shouted back.

"So what were you and Cho talking about?" Hermione said, wiggling her wand suggestively.

"Nothing," he said flatly.

"It's Sunday, you have Occlumency tomorrow night, you know," she reminded him.

Harry began to choke as he tried to take a deep breath and yell at the same time. Hermione slapped his back as he wheezed.

_/ need a glass of water_, he thought, and one appeared in his hand.

When Harry had recovered, Hermione asked him, "What's up?" with a very curious glint in her eye.

"Nothing," he lied. "I'm just not looking forward to it."

And with that he walked off and pretended to observe everyone else.

Snape was going to look into his memories. Including last night's memories. And then Snape was probably going to kill him. Or kill Draco. Harry wasn't too fussed about the thought of killing Draco -- it would sure as hell solve a lot of his problems -- and it was Draco's fault anyway, Harry thought, he didn't _ask_ for a blow job, he didn't ask for anything, just some semblance of a normal life and for all Slytherins to leave him alone.

It wasn't that much to ask, he mused, watching as Dean blocked Ginny's Stunning spell.

* * *

Harry rummaged through his Quidditch stuff as he stood in the deserted Gryffindor locker room. He didn't have that much time to fly, he knew, Slytherin had booked the pitch for tonight. His Firebolt lay next to him.

Someone cleared their throat behind him. Harry turned around.

It was Draco.

Shit. He should have known.

Draco looked awful, Harry observed with mild happiness. He didn't look nearly as sleek as usual and he had circles under his eyes.

Harry just stood there and looked at him for a moment, his arms folded. "Yes?" he said testily.

Draco's eyes flicked up and down Harry. "I've been thinking," he began.

"No," Harry said. "No, I know where you're going with this."

"You don't, actually," Draco said, sounding amused.

"And don't come anywhere near me," Harry added.

"Potter..." Draco said slowly. He glanced out the window, and Harry followed suit. The Slytherins had already taken the pitch. Harry swore under his breath.

"We'll discuss it on Tuesday, then," Draco said, turning to leave.

"We're not _discussing_ anything, ferret!" Harry shouted.

"That wasn't a question," Draco called back.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Harry swore again and was left there with his broom, extremely confused and slightly aroused.


	7. Legilimens

_A/N_: _Shortest chapter yet, I know. But there wasn't any other way to do it. I also wanted to say I've decided to piece some parts of the canon plot together to suit the needs of my fic while strictly obeying others and not follow it implicitly, which will make things a LOT easier._

* * *

"You're late, Potter."

Harry scowled reflexively as he closed Snape's office door behind him. "I know. Sorry."

"Dumbledore may tolerate your impudence, Potter, but I assure you I do not. The next time you arrive late you will receive a week's worth of detention in exchange," Snape told him, pulling his wand out of his pocket as he strode over to Harry.

Harry bit his tongue. _Just don't look at that memory, please_, he thought desperately.

Snape seemed to note Harry's lack of argument and observed him quizzically.

"I'm assuming you didn't practice," he told Harry.

"I might have," Harry said defensively.

"We'll see, then, won't we?" Snape said, and without warning him, yelled "_Legilimens_!"

Harry stumbled backward.

_Dudley and Pierce were taunting him... He was on the Quidditch pitch... _

_... He was Voldemort... He was talking to Lucius Malfoy... It was important, it was very important... the memory mingled with the corridor... _Harry gasped with anticipation... _he was going to see it..._

He was dimly aware of the spell being lifted. Harry opened his eyes. He was on his knees.

"What was that last memory?" Snape said coolly, looking at Harry with his dark, impassive eyes.

"Er," Harry said. He wondered if Snape saw things he didn't see. "A dream."

"You dreamed yet again that you were Voldemort?"

"Is there a problem?" Harry said, bristling.

"If you could use Occlumency properly, you feckless incompetent, you wouldn't be having these dreams," Snape snapped. "It is neither appropriate nor unavoidable. You need to concentrate, Potter, you need to take your emotions down from the pedestal on which you have placed them, to be admired by all --"

"I don't do anything with my emotions!" Harry yelled.

Snape smirked. "Clearly. _Legilimens_!"

Harry struggled to keep himself blank, but he was frozen by nerves... any second, Snape was going to reach that memory...

_Sirius... Lupin... Green flashing light... He was with the mermaids, tugging Fleur's sister from their grasp..._

_Draco was flickering in and out of his conciousness... Dudley, Aunt Petunia, dementors flashed behind his eyelids... Ecstasy... _He struggled to hold onto the dementors, let go of Malfoy... _Malfoy... lunging at him... Swearing at each other... Dementors! his mind roared. DEMENTORS!_

"Damnit!" he yelled aloud.

Snape seemed to pause in surpirse. Harry opened his eyes weakly.

"What are you trying to prevent me from seeing, Potter?" he said.

At that moment, Draco Malfoy burst through the door.

Harry almost stopped breathing.

"Yes, Malfoy?" Snape said, sounding agitated.

Draco glanced over at Harry. Harry pretended to be fascinated by the palm of his hand.

"Potter is receving Remedial Potions tutoring," Snape said by way of explanation.

"But I'm tutoring him," Draco drawled, sounding unconvinced.

"As you may have figured out by now, Potter is completely hopeless at the subject," Snape said icily.

"They found Montague," Draco said. Harry could hear the smirk in his voice. _Little blonde bastard_, Harry thought viciously. "In a toilet upstairs. He's sort of disoriented."

"All right," Snape said. "Stay here, Potter."

Draco waited until Snape had left and said quietly, "I'll see _you_ tomorrow night, Potter."

The door closed with a click behind them.

Harry waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps, walked over to a shelf, picked up a jar with a picked eel brain in it, and flung it across the room.

It shattered with a pleasing noise on the stone floor and Harry smiled grimly to himself.


	8. Convalescence

Harry tapped his quill on the desk. Draco was late.

And not by a few minutes, either, Harry thought angrily, by at least ten. This wasn't Harry's lateness, unintentional and apologized for, it was passive aggressive Slytherin at its finest.

The quill tapped with increasingly frequency.

Finally the dungeon door opened and Draco slipped in. He looked at Harry openly in an uncomfortably Snape-like way, like he was trying to read Harry's mind, and Harry looked away with discomfort.

It was a while before either of them spoke. Draco fiddled with his already irritatingly perfect hair.

"Am I going to be learning any Potions tonight, Malfoy, or are you just going to be standing by the door for hours?" Harry said scathingly.

"Come to the dormitory," Draco said.

It took Harry a moment to process that. "Huh?"

"I know you have an Invisibility Cloak, Potter, I'm not the stupid one."

"Neither am I," Harry snapped.

"Come to the dormitory, and we can discuss... things," Draco drawled, completely ignoring him.

"All I want is to learn Potions and go back to hating you in peace, Malfoy," Harry told him. That was far from true, but he couldn't say anything else and he had to say something.

"We'll discuss that too," Draco said briskly. He glanced at his watch. "Be there in fifteen minutes."

"I'm not the one who was late," Harry said, bristling.

Draco ignored him again and closed the door cleanly behind him.

Harry swore as he swept his books into his bag. _The only reason you're doing this_, he told himself, _is so you can keep the upper hand. Malfoy has absolutely no power over you._

Lying to himself, however, was entirely different.

It took him a surprisingly short amount of time to collect the Invisibility cloak, telling Ron and Hermione who observed curiously from the common room that he had forgotten a book, and pulling it on as soon as he slipped out of the portrait hole.

And he was left with the rest of the way down to the dungeons to hate himself and ask "_why me_" over and over again.

There were more Slytherins in the common room this time, and Harry had to be extremely careful not to trod on any of them or make any especially loud rustling noises.

Draco seemed to have the ability to clear the dormitory of boys at his whim, as there just so happened to be no one else there. As soon as the door swung shut behind Harry, Draco muttered "_Occludo,_" and the lock clicked.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Harry said, a strange ringing in his ears. He had had the whole way down to puzzle it out.

Draco sat on his bed and just looked at Harry as he tossed the Invisibility Cloak to the side.

"I mean, not the... screwing around part," Harry said quickly. "You're always trying to... prove something to me. Or... about me."

"So that's my motive?" Draco said in a surprisingly light voice. "You've figured me out, then, Potter? My entire life revolves around you?"

"I didn't say that," Harry qualified, although he secretly thought that wasn't too far off.

"Potter," Draco said, "this has nothing to do with that." He added quickly, "I'm not saying you're right. You never are," he said, smirking.

"Sure," Harry said, keeping his voice even.

Draco stood up and approached him. Harry stood his ground.

"It has to do with..." Draco murmured before the moment of osculation, parting Harry's lips easily. Harry let out an uncontainable moan of pleasure and Draco drew them slowly to his bed, and drawing back briefly, whispered a few spells. The curtains shut themselves and appeared to tighten together.

Harry closed his eyes. He felt tension ebb away, the clench-y tension being around Draco always gave him.

He met Draco's mouth again. _Or it could be _anyone's_ mouth_, he thought dreamily, _it was just so goddamn nice_...

Harry's hips bucked up against Draco and Draco acquiesced to him, sliding against him and trailing his tongue down Harry's neck. Harry bit his lip.

"Damn," he gasped in surprise. He was hard already. It seemed to come so easily around Draco, he was heightened. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

He did eventually wind up coming, in a blur of skin and whimpering, and whether Draco did too, Harry wasn't sure. He seemed to have more control over that sort of thing. Git.

They didn't really linger, once everything was pretty much over. Draco stood up and began to get dressed. He slid his watch onto his wrist and was tightening it when he noted, "You really need to go, Potter."

"Christ," Harry spat, pulling his own pants on and feeling around for his robes on the floor. "How long?"

"Thirty minutes after you would normally be back," Draco said coolly.

"Christ!" Harry repeated angrily.

He was out of the dormitory quickly without another word to Draco and gliding quickly and invisibly up the staircase toward the Fat Lady.

"Fortuna Major," he said, out of breath, pulling the cloak off and wadding it up in his bag.

"Took you long enough," she said huffily, swinging open.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked as soon as she spotted him. She rushed over to the entrance and dragged him over to the fireplace.

"We were worried, mate," Ron said, looking alarmed. "We thought you got dragged off by Death Eaters."

"Hey, what's up?" Ginny said, perching on the arm of the couch.

"Nothing, what's up with you?" Harry said, vainly trying to deflect the attention away from himself.

"What the hell were you doing?" Hermione demanded.

"Listen, I'm sorry," Harry said. Ordinarily he might find their concern a bit hypocritical and retort angrily, but it wasn't really his place after what he _had_ been doing. "I got sidetracked... I'm sorry."

Hermione snorted disbelievingly and pulled some house elf knitting out of her bag. The hat she was currently working on was extremely lumpy and about the color of currant custard.

Ron was fingering his prefect badge and looking nervously over at Fred and George, who appeared to be testing Nosebleed Nougats on third years.

Harry fell back in the chair, rubbing his eyes. His scar had begun to burn again.


	9. Threstals

Over the next few weeks, Harry poured his excess frustrations into Quidditch, and heard from various people that Draco had taken to stalking around the castle at odd hours and lashing out at anyone who got near him, including Ms. Norris, who may or may not have gotten kicked down a flight of stairs.

Harry struggled to keep the memories away from Snape in Occlumency lessons. He found that shame was a great repression technique. If you're ashamed enough of it, he figured, you can forget anything.

Snape had a feeling, though. Harry felt him probing into those parts of his mind. Luckily, he was more concerned with Harry's continuing dreams.

"Stand up."

Harry staggered to his feet.

"Do you think seeing into the Dark Lord's mind makes you special, Potter?" he hissed. "You are purposefully not practicing the techniques, you are flaunting your thoughts on a whim --"

"I just can't do it!" Harry shouted. "I don't think I'm special, I'm not doing this on purpose, I don't want to see into Voldemort's head more than anyone else would, I'm telling you I CAN'T DO IT!"

Snape's eyes were narrowed. He looked at Harry disgustedly. "Try harder, then, Potter."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes tightly.

"_LEGILLIMENS!_"

* * *

"All righ', you lot," Hagrid called as the class clumped together on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. "I've got something special for yeh today. Jus' lemme... I'll only be a minute," he called to the class, and disappeared into the forest.

"_Special_?" Draco's voice carried through the crowd. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He sounded rather spooked. Harry smirked to himself.

Ron elbowed Harry and was about to whisper something when Hagrid reappeared.

He motioned that they follow him and was again lost amongst the trees.

No one seemed to know what to do, but tentatively they moved forward and shoved past the undergrowth, following Hagrid, until they reached a clearing.

"No one talk, you'll scare 'em," Hagrid whispered.

"Scare what?" Draco said, his voice reaching higher intensities of alarm.

Harry nudged Dean, who gave him an appreciative grin.

There was silence for a minute or so, and then they appeared.

It was the skeletal black horses from earlier that year.

Harry gasped audibly. Hagrid could see them too.

_I'm not a nutter, then,_ he thought with relief.

"Where are they?" Ron said nervously.

"Threstals," Hagrid said by way of explanation, and Hermione let out a little "oh" of recognition.

"Yeh can on'y see 'em if you've seen someone... pass on," Hagrid told them, as the threstal began to tear flesh from the animal carcass -- Pansy Parkinson shrieked -- "which'd explain why most of yeh can't."

Ron elbowed Harry. "What..." he said, trailing off. "That's so bizarre. It's not there!"

He felt a gaze on the back of his neck and instinctively looked behind him. Draco was looking at him with a tilted head, and noting Harry's glance, mouthed, "Diggory?"

Harry nodded curtly before turning back around.

"They're bad luck!" Lavender Brown burst out. "If you can see one, you're supposed to bring death to those around you! Professor Trelawney --"

Hagrid waved his hand. "Bollocks," he said, not unkindly. "All sort o' misconceptions surroun' creatures like this... 's superstition, is all..."

"Yeah?" Draco said loudly. "You don't think they have any basis in reality?"

"Aren't you afraid of unicorns or something, Malfoy?" Harry said, equally as loudly. There were titters from the crowd.

Draco seemed about to retort when Hagrid cut him off. "Should be gettin' back now," he said, and they all began picking their way back through the underbrush.

Draco cornered Harry next to a tree. Harry noticed a distinct lack of flanking by Crabbe and Goyle.

"You think you're funny, don't you, Potter?" Draco said, his voice hard, but his wide smirk divulging him.

"I do think I'm pretty funny, actually," Harry said lightly.

Draco grinned a slightly frightening, tooth-baring smile, said "Tuesday," and slipped back into the crowd.

Harry watched them go, ignoring his stomach thrashing around, and wondered briefly what was for dinner.


	10. Point It Home

"So are you a pouf, then, Potter?"

Harry was lying on top of Draco in his bed. Their shirts had been lost somewhere along the way and they were just running their hands along each other's warm bodies. They had been silent so far, as usual.

"Er," Harry said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable, like he had snuck into someone's office with his Invisibility Cloak on and it had abruptly fallen off and they had turned and spotted him. Silly as it was, he didn't like to acknowledge that they were actually doing what they were doing. It was harder to bypass his own circuitry that way.

"Er," Harry repeated, stalling for time.

Draco snorted. "It's a simple question. Who have you snogged before?"

"Cho," Harry said, deciding to ditch his dignity in his sanity in one fell swoop.

"Oh, Hoe Chang," Draco said with a slight nod.

"She's not a hoe," Harry said, bristling.

"All right," Draco said, smoothly redirecting the conversation, "are you one or not?"

"What?" Harry said, momentarily distracted. He absentmindedly stroked Draco's collarbone.

"Gay," Draco said.

"What, are you?" Harry said, alarmed.

Draco rolled out from underneath Harry, snickering. Harry fell onto the covers with a thump and rolled over. Once they had resituated themselves, Draco began to trace a finger around Harry's navel.

"You're pretty slow on the uptake, aren't you, Potter?" Draco drawled.

"Er, but what... I mean, I honestly don't know," Harry admitted.

"You're generally supposed to figure that out before you go around snogging people," Draco said.

"I think it makes more sense to try everything out and then make a decision," Harry said defiantly.

"That's not how it works, though, Potter," Draco said, sounding half irritated and half amused.

"Well, that's how it should!" Harry said loudly.

Draco shushed him and tugged on the bed curtains. "You can't do everything the way you want to," he snapped. "There's rules for a reason."

Harry propped himself up on his elbow. "So civility lasted all of three minutes."

"Well," Draco said, pulling his shirt on. He didn't seem to have anything to say after that.

They sat there for a while. Harry didn't want to leave, Draco didn't seem to want him to leave, but they didn't want to be near each other either.

Harry sighed. He kept getting chest pains. He had gone to Madame Pomfrey, but she had told him he was just under a lot of stress and there was nothing she could do except that he should "quit doing dangerous things, for goodness sakes," which Harry had sort of disregarded on general principles.

Draco took his shirt back off and, rolling his eyes, flopped back down on the bed on his stomach. They lay next to each other, barely touching skin, but it was enough. Harry breathed through his nose and closed his eyes tightly.

"I should go," Harry said, his eyes still closed, making no move to get up.

"So go," Draco said indifferently.

Harry sat up, running a hand through his hair, which was even messier than usual.

"Wait," Draco said, contemplating him with grey eyes, "before you go -- what are you doing that's got Umbridge all riled up?"

"Huh?" Harry said, pulling his socks on.

"Don't play dumb with me," Draco said, his voice more immediate.

Harry chuckled. "I'm not," he said. "I'm just not telling you anything."

Draco quickly masked the look of disappointment on his face as Harry glanced at him, but not quickly enough.

* * *

"Nice job, Harry," Angelina called as Harry came up from a particularly graceful dive.

The stands of the Quidditch pitch were mostly empty at this practice. The Slytherins hadn't been prone to going out of their way to taunt them as of late; in fact, the entire house seemed in large discord. Harry wasn't really complaining.

Angelina tossed the Quaffle toward Katie, who lobbed it at the goal. Ron completely lost his head and knocked the Quaffle with his elbow. It went through the third hoop.

There was a collective groan from the entire team.

"I'm sorry!" Ron exclaimed, going red in the face. "Look, if a Chaser comes my way, I'll just knock them upside with my arm, then!"

Harry laughed genuinely. It felt so good to be off the ground. He did a small, gratuitous swoop in the air and enjoyed the cool winter air rushing past his head.

Angelina blew her whistle. "Beaters," she called.

"Yes?" Fred said. He and George had been off to the side, conversing while they floated in the air.

"Hufflepuff's got some speedy little buggers this year," she said. "I need you to be on form."

"Angelina, m'dear, we're always on form," George said.

"And Harry, you're all right, aren't you?" she said.

"As long as I don't lose my right hand before the next match," he replied.

"Good," she said. "All right, that's it for practice, then."

Harry returned to the ground a bit sadly, like boarding the Hogwarts Express at the end of the year. Lately, the air and the Room of Requirement had been his only refuge.

He glanced at the imprint his foot made in the soft ground -- it had rained the other day -- as he returned to the castle.


	11. Cadences

"Someone's definitely there," Harry whispered. He snatched the Invisibility Cloak off the edge of the bed and pulled it around him.

He and Draco had been fooling around aimlessly on the green and silver sheets as usual when they heard the dormitory door creak open.

Draco poked his head out of the bed curtains. "Blaise, _mon amie_," Harry heard him say sarcastically. "To what do I owe this displeasure?"

"Get stuffed," Blaise said conversationally. "Snape's looking for you. Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"I told you not to bother me," Draco said smoothly, pushing the curtains aside. "What does he want?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? Go ask him yourself," Blaise said dismissively. A moment later the door closed with a click.

"What are you doing to piss Umbridge off, Potter?" Draco asked as he fussed with his hair.

"I told you I wasn't going to answer that," Harry said, pulling the cloak down slightly.

Draco flicked his eyes up to meet Harry's. "I'll find out, you know," he said, rather smugly for someone who didn't know anything.

"Well, it's not going to be from me," said Harry. He had no intention of telling Draco anything, neither the DA nor anything about Voldemort. He hadn't forgotten who Draco was, after all.

* * *

"That's great, Neville," Harry said encouragingly.

The meeting was nearly over. Harry had decided, after some deliberation, to teach them Patronuses.

"But it hasn't got a form," Neville said, sounding frustrated, as the silvery cloud hovered in front of him.

"You've been doing brilliantly, though," Harry assured him, turning and surveying the rest of the room.

"They're so pretty!" Cho said, watching her swan glide gracefully past.

"Well, they're supposed to be functional," Harry said, grinning.

"They are sort of cute," Hermione commented. Her Patronus, an otter, gamboled playfully in the air, leaving silver streams of light wherever it passed.

At that moment, Dobby came bursting through the door.

"Harry Potter!" he cried, panting, looking utterly disheveled.

"I'm here," Harry assured him, hurrying over. "What's up?"

"She..." Dobby said. He seemed to have difficulty talking. "Find you, Harry Potter, sir!"

"She... she who?" Harry repeated, confused.

"She!" Dobby said. He rushed away and began to bang his head off the wall. Harry grabbed him and dragged him away.

"Thank you, sir," he squeaked.

"She who, Dobby?" Harry said urgently. "Who's going to find us?"

Dobby shook his head. He couldn't speak.

Harry's stomach dropped. "Not Umbridge?" he said.

Dobby nodded a tiny bit. "Very soon, sir," he said quietly.

Harry stood up and blew his whistle. "All right, everyone," he shouted. "We've got to get out of here. Don't bother taking anything but your wands. Split up."

There was a sort of pandemonium.

"What do you mean, we've got to get out of here?" Dean Thomas shouted angrily.

"Umbridge!" Harry snapped. "Just go, go!"

Everyone stormed for the exits, Harry included.

He ran down the most deserted corridor, keeping an eye out for Umbridge or anyone else, when he tripped on something invisible and went flying.

"Trip Jinx," Draco said gloatingly, appearing from the shadows. He knelt next to Harry. "I told you," he whispered.

Harry just stared at him with loathing in his eyes.

"Excellent work, Draco!" Umbridge trilled, appearing behind Harry. She hefted him up by his armpits. "Headmaster's office, I think, Potter," she hissed in his ear.

Draco pocketed Harry's wand.

"Go get the girl and bring her to the headmaster," Umbridge instructed Draco.

Harry sighed. Damnit, damnit, _damnit_, he was an idiot.

* * *

"... So with that information from Willy Widdershins, I got a list of students, found one most likely to open up to me... and so I caught them," Umbridge finished with relish, "the whole band of Potter's scofflaws."

Harry was standing in front of Cornelius Fudge, Percy Weasley, and several Aurors (including Kinglsey Shacklebolt) on Dumbledore's rug.

Professor McGonagall and Snape were there, too, looking rather miffed.

Draco entered the office quietly. Everyone glanced over at the sound of the door opening.

"Well?" Umbridge demanded of him. "Where's the girl?"

Draco paused and looked at the ceiling, then at Harry. "I'm not too sure," he replied, his voice rather strained.

"What?" Umbridge snapped. "What do you mean... you silly little boy, what do you mean you're _not too sure?"_

Percy Weasley stopped scrawling and looked up.

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who just looked contentedly over at Umbridge, his fingers steepled.

"I mean, I had her one minute, and the next minute she was gone," Draco replied. Harry noted a tiny bit of a smirk in his voice.

"Well, go find her!" Umbridge roared, her voice rising in pitch.

"Is that really my job?" Draco replied.

"Insubordination!" Umbridge hissed. "Twenty points from Slytherin!"

"Let's not overreact," Snape interjected.

"Dolores," Fudge said impatiently, "if you don't have a witness, and you don't have any evidence... Believe me, I like to see rule-breakers expelled as much as the next person--" he looked at Harry pointedly as he said this, then continued, "I can't really do much about it--"

Draco glanced at Harry again, less furtively this time.

"Did you see that?" Umbridge roared, seeming to lose her cool entirely. "They're conspiring against me! Malfoy and Potter!"

McGonagall began to laugh openly. "Malfoy and Potter working together? You'd just as soon see hippogriffs dropping from the sky, really, Dolores..."

Fudge began to laugh nervously. "What an accusation," he said, "Dolores... Really, you're grasping at straws here--"

"No!" Umbridge yelled. "I have evidence!"

She pulled a sheet of paper out and, with a flourish, handed it to Fudge.

"Gobstones Club," he read aloud.

Percy Weasley continued to write furiously, spraying ink in all general directions.

Umbridge's face dropped. "Let me see that," she said, her voice in dangerous tones.

Fudge handed her the crumpled paper.

"No!" she shrieked. "It was a list, of all their names, with the title 'Dumbledore's Army!'"

"Dumbledore's Army?" Fudge said, suddenly wildly excited. "Well, where is it? Let's see it!"

"This was it!" Umbridge yelled, slapping the paper with her hand.

The room got very silent.

Harry chanced a glance at Draco. He looked as utterly confused as everyone else. Either he was an excellent actor, or he'd had nothing to do with it. Harry would put his Galleons on the second one.

"Dolores," Fudge said timidly, edging away from Umbridge, who was rapidly beginning to resemble an angry pink rhinoceros.

"I think," she said, very quietly, "that we should just give Potter some Veritaserum."

Everyone's eyes were on Harry.

"You can't administer that potion to students, Dolores," Snape said dismissively. "Though it would be a waste on Potter, regardless."

"If you have no evidence of Harry's general rule-breakery at this time, Dolores," Dumbledore said softly, "perhaps we should mark this case closed for now. Rest assured, if you bring proof to me, I'll be more than happy to take it into consideration."

"Back to class, you two," McGonagall said, ushering Harry and Draco out of the office, just as Umbridge seemed about to blow and Percy Weasley scrawled faster than ever.

They walked at opposite sides of the hallway in silence until Harry walked in front of a broom closet. He motioned that Draco join him and slipped in.

"Don't step on me," Harry snapped as soon as Draco had closed the door behind himself and trod on Harry's foot. "What the hell did you do?"

"I just lost the redhead with the boils on her face, is all, I didn't fake the Gobstones thing," Draco replied. "And I didn't do it for you."

"I'm sure," Harry said sardonically.

"I'm not done with you yet, Potter," Draco snapped, "and if you get it expelled, I want it to be on _my_ terms."

Harry snorted disbelievingly. "Where'd you lose her?"

"Vanishing Cabinet," Draco replied. "Same thing that happened to Flint. Thought it was a nice touch of irony. By the time they find her, I'm assuming she'll be too delirious to even know her own name, let alone point the finger at you."

"It just doesn't make any sense, Malfoy," Harry said.

"I told you," Draco said, sounding agitated, "I'm not done with you just yet."

And he met Harry's lips.

It was sort of nice, Harry considering, despite the fact that he was sitting in a bucket.

* * *

_A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed the extra long chapter, because I'm unfortunately going out of town with the 'rents for the next four days and can't update. At least you have a lot to ponder... Draco's ulterior motives, who switched out the lists, et cetera. Happy Memorial day, everyone! _


	12. Mellifluous

_A/N: Ha ha, I lied, I had time to do another chapter. My muses are just going at me with this fic. I may have to hire a bodyguard. _

"Harry."

Harry jerked awake. The Daily Prophet was lying on his chest, the fire was flickering behind him, and it was inky night outside the common room window.

Hermione was looking at him. There was concern in her eyes, and something else as well -- Harry wasn't quite sure.

"Yes," he muttered, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him. Harry, a bit surprised, just sat there for a second, and then warily hugged her back.

"I worry about you, you know," she said. "You sleep so fitfully, Harry, and you haven't been eating much lately..."

"Hermione, you know..." he muttered, embarrassed for some reason he couldn't pinpoint.

She pressed the back of her hand against his scar, relieving the burning sensation for a fleeting moment. Harry was surprised how gentle and clean her touch felt. Cho had been soft like that, too, he thought. But it wasn't... it was lacking that _feeling_, that moment when you look at someone and they're looking at you and you both look away and you know the other person is grinning sheepishly to themselves because you're doing the exact same thing.

Harry gritted his teeth and succumbed to himself. "What if Ron were gay?"

She dropped her hand and laughed slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, hypothetically, suppose Ron's gay, right? He likes blokes." Harry paused. "Would -- I mean, what would you think?"

"Well, I mean," Hermione murmured, "he'd still be Ron, wouldn't he?"

An ineffable sense of relief sank into the marrow of Harry's body. "Yeah," he said, "he would be, wouldn't he?"

Hermione looked at him shrewdly. "You want to talk to me about something, Harry?"

"No, probably not," Harry said, stifling a yawn. "What time is it?" The common room was deserted.

"Eleven or so," she replied. "Ron went to bed about thirty minutes ago. He seemed depressed."

"Well, you know," Harry said. "DA's gone, he thinks he's bollocks at Quidditch..."

"Is he?" Hermione said.

"A bit," Harry said. "When he gets nervous, anyway. The rest of the time he's fine."

Hermione patted him on the knee. "Get some sleep, Harry."

Harry watched her ascend the stairs and stifled another yawn.

* * *

He was getting a bit too fond of Draco. Okay, there it was, he admitted it.

Harry hadn't been that psychically close with anyone in his entire life.

It wasn't Draco he was fond of, per se, because he was a smug little asshole and just about the most infuriating person on the face of earth, but it was them together. Harry could forget everything. He could forget Dumbledore not looking at him. He could forget corridors, and Occlumency, and red eyes burning into the back of his head.

He was getting a bit too fond of the time he spent with Draco. That was it.

Until he decided to unveil the elephant in the room.

"Do you _want _to be a Death Eater?" Harry said.

Draco was lying with his head on Harry's stomach, running his hand over Harry's ab muscles, but the moment Harry said that Draco jerked up into a sitting position so fast you'd think "Death Eater" was code for "Hey you, get away from Potter immediately."

"What?" he snapped, looking at Harry like he had just simultaneously insulted his mother and kicked him in the nuts.

"Death Eater," Harry said. "Do you want to be one?"

They happened to be in Draco's bed in the Slytherin dormitory, again. Harry had seen a lot more of the Slytherin common room and dormitory than he would have liked to, as of late, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

"I heard you," Draco replied, his grey eyes alight with ire. "I just want to know why the fuck you want to know."

Harry put his hands up. "It just seems like a stupid career choice, to me," he carried on recklessly.

"Oh, yeah, a choice," Draco replied. "Wouldn't that be nice."

"Not talking was okay, too," Harry said quickly.

"You know, Potter, why don't you just go wank in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom or something if you want someone to bitch with?"

"All right," Harry said, his voice raising itself, "never mind."

They stared at each other for a second.

Draco just shook his head and took Harry's forearm between his two hands, paler in contrast. He stroked the fine black hair.

"It..." Harry began, and trailed off as Draco's grip on his arm intensified. "Okay, whatever."

They sat there a few moments in silence, Harry watching his own bare chest rise and fall.

"You really do talk too much, Potter," Draco said finally, with a good-natured smirk, letting Harry know the elephant was gone.


	13. Candor

_A/N: I decided to update RIGHT before I left, much to my own displeasure. Again, happy Memorial day weekend, everyone!_

It was the middle of April.

This realization hit Harry like a ton of lead bricks.

It was the middle of April, the castle was losing the cold shroud of March, and everyone in it was happily burbling about how lovely the damn weather was and demanding of their friends if they thought so-and-so loved them back.

He couldn't get through the hallways without people snogging all over the place. Umbridge, of course, would stroll through with her wand and that would be the end of that, but as soon as she was gone, the couple would turn back to each other and go at it some more, even under the direct threat of detention.

It was actually sort of nice, Harry mused.

Marietta had not turned up yet, or he was assuming Marrieta had been the one to rat on them, because she was the only redheaded ex-member of the DA who had gone missing. He hoped she stayed missing, actually, the damn ratfink that she was.

Cho had nothing to say to him on this subject. She had nothing to say to him on any subject, in fact. Harry pretended he didn't care, but truth be told, he was clinging desperately to anything remotely normal and pre-Draco like her, and the more she slipped away, the more disconnected from his own life he felt.

Even now, he felt like an intruding observer of his own life, filled with wanton satisfaction at the various misfortunes of his own romantic failings and his failings in general.

Like the nights Harry thrashed around in bed, sweaty, needing to get to the end of the corridor, his hands clenched on the sheets.

He thought it was possible the corridor was a metaphor for sex. But then again, they were Voldemort-fueled dreams, or he was pretty sure of it.

It became very clear to him he needed to talk to Sirius.

_Snuffles,_

_I have some..._ Harry crossed that out and wrote, _I've been having a lot of odd dreams. I've been working at Occlumency, like you told me... _he crossed out 'you' and put 'everyone', and then gritted his teeth against the bitter thoughts of Dumbledore, who had not paid him any mind yet, thought the school year was nearly over, _but it doesn't seem to be doing much. I know you told me to use the mirror, but Snape's not actually been that hard on me... _Lie, Harry though, tapping the quill on his desk, _and I've got some other... confusing stuff going on. _When had this letter gotten to sound entirely stupid? Harry wondered. He considered throwing it in the fire at that moment, but plundered blindly on, _I just really need to talk to someone or do something. I feel trapped in the castle. I know it's worse for you, but I know how you feel. _

He decided to end it there, hoping Sirius would be able to figure out what was wrong by the tone of the letter yet, at the same time, knowing he wouldn't.

_-- Harry._

_

* * *

  
_

Draco was absolutely no fucking help.

At all.

"Potter, I know you Gryffindors have this stupid idea that you need to tell everyone about your feelings, day in and day out, but I personally have a bit more candor," Draco responded. "No, only stir it three times, _what_ are you doing?"

They had mutually decided (Harry wasn't entirely sure how, as they had reached this decision without talking to one another) that they shouldn't skive off Potions tutoring for once.

And it had all gone rapidly downhill from there.

"It says five," Harry argued.

"That's a blotchy three," Draco insisted. "I know you were raised by wolves and everything, Potter, but I thought you could read."

"Muggles," Harry replied.

"About as good as raising children as wolves, and I think I'm giving them too much credit," Draco said. "And now you have to throw out the potion. Good job."

Harry bit his tongue, just barely avoiding saying something about purebloods that was not exactly kind, and evanesced the potion with his wand.

"I just wanted to know how you're so bloody calm all the time," Harry snapped.

"Who says I'm calm?" Draco said smoothly, turning the page of the Potions book back. "I'm just better at hiding it."

"You have no idea," Harry said, "how much you sound like Snape. And that was far from a compliment."

"All good Slytherins have the same values," Draco replied evenly.

_Good Slytherins, _Harry thought. _Oxy-moron._

He filed that thought away for later use and began to remake the potion.


	14. Chaste

Harry crept up the staircase.

It was not Tuesday, and they had not agreed to it, but he was feeling spectacularly horny, so he had thrown on his Invisibility Cloak and snuck down to the dungeons.

Harry was surprised by how well he knew the way by now, and he thought about that as he opened the dormitory door with a creak.

It took a long moment to process what he was seeing.

Draco and Alcott Vaisey, a Slytherin girl who Harry had spotted in the common room once, were snogging so deeply and demandingly that they were staggering around the room. Draco let out an excited little moan as he began, while still locking lips with her, to unbutton her shirt.

"Wait, wait," she whimpered in her stupid high pitched little voice, pulling away from Draco, "I left my wand in my bag."

"Do you honestly think you're going to _need_ it?" Draco snapped, the frustration in his voice ringing through clearly.

"Yes, well, you never know," she spluttered, and dashed out of the room, her auburn hair whipping behind her.

As soon as she had gone, Harry reached behind him and flipped the lock.

Draco, who had sat down on the bed, leapt to his feet and stared, open-mouthed, at the general vicinity of the door.

Harry tossed the Invisibility Cloak to the side and strode through the dormitory toward Draco, who was looking more and more alarmed by the moment, his head ringing with fury and his footsteps impossibly loud on the floor.

"You_..._ _slutty... _little_..."_ Harry hissed, and drew his fist back, abandoning all pretenses of magic, and punched Draco right in the nose.

Draco fell to the floor, swearing and cursing Harry to hell, and yelled, "What the _fuck_, Potter?"

Harry grabbed Draco by his shirt, yanked him off the floor and threw him against the wall next to the bed. Draco stared at him maliciously, bleeding profusely from his nose.

"Where do you get off?" Harry hissed in his face, his heart pounding in his throat.

"Why do you _care_?" Draco said acidly.

"What do you mean, why do I care?" Harry demanded, shaking Draco roughly. "You're screwing around on me! How am I not supposed to care?"

"Hold on, Potter, I think I missed the part where we were_ seeing_ each other," Draco snapped. "Where do _you_ get off?"

"What are we doing, then?" Harry said. "What the fuck are we doing?"

They looked at each other a moment.

Harry forced his knee between Draco's thighs. "Don't talk," he ordered Draco, and he only had to say it once.

He knelt down and began to unzip Draco's pants; Draco let out a little whimper of anticipation.

It was not long before Harry had the length of Draco in his mouth, and Draco gasped with ecstasy and only had to whack him once on the shoulder and yell "Don't use your teeth, git!"

Harry was shocked and slightly horrified to find how good it felt to have Draco in his mouth, and filed that thought away for further inspection.

Draco climaxed quickly, with a shuddering groan, and Harry wiped his mouth and muttered a few cleaning spells. Draco motioned weakly to the bed and Harry dragged him there, and began to voraciously kiss him, enjoying every last corner of Draco's mouth. Draco shifted against him, and Harry felt himself getting hard, and cursed God himself to hell and back.

When it was all said and done, Harry thought, it hadn't been that bad a meeting.

"You were jealous," Draco muttered. He was lying on his back, looking up at the silver canopy, his left knee pulled to his chest. "You were jealous, Potter."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Isn't there a nicer way to describe it?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned -- do _not_ hit me."

"I do not think," Harry clarified, "I am jealous. Because I don't think I give a damn either way about you, Malfoy."

Draco made a kissy noise.

"Fuck you," Harry replied.

"What are you, then?" Draco drawled.

Harry didn't exactly have an answer for that.

"We're going to have to stop, at some point," Draco said drowsily, sometime later.

"Probably," Harry replied. He thought of Voldemort and everything else and sighed.

Draco leaned over and nuzzled Harry's shoulder with his head.

Harry's stomach jumped pleasantly and he smiled to himself.


	15. Eternities

They were going to have sex.

Harry knew it. It was only a matter of time, wasn't it?

So he had prepared, as best as he could figure out how, and he had tried to ignore the implications of it all -- but how could he?

He was going to have sex with another male. More specifically, Draco Malfoy.

It was really something you shouldn't think about, Harry figured. You just did it. Because every time he _thought_ about it he drove himself crazy.

Which was why he was completely mentally unprepared when Draco looked up at him and said, "Fuck me."

"What?" Harry replied, disquieted.

Draco snorted derisively. "_Fuck_," he said slowly, "_me._"

"Er," Harry stalled.

"All right, then," Draco said. "I'll find someone else."

He made a move to get out from underneath Harry.

"Hold on," Harry retorted. "You can't emotionally blackmail me like that."

"So fuck me, then," Draco said.

"Shouldn't it be a little more romantic or something?" Harry said, slightly panicky.

"This is you and me, Potter," Draco scoffed. "If it's going to be anything, romantic is not it."

"This is my first time," Harry said, and immediately wished he didn't.

"Mine too," Draco replied smoothly.

"Really?"

Draco glared at him. "Don't sound so fucking dubious."

"I feel I should tell you you're ruining the moment," Harry said.

"Well, fix it," Draco said, and promptly rolled over. Harry sat up so he was kneeling above Draco, one leg on either side of his slim body. "The way I see it, you have two virginities," Draco muttered into the sheets.

"Yeah?" Harry said, slipping Draco's boxers off and then his own.

"One for girls, one for boys."

"I've been meaning to ask what that whole Alcott Vaisley thing was about," Harry said. "You told me you were gay," he added, slightly accusingly. "Or do you just fuck everything that moves, indiscriminately?"

"_Indiscriminately_?" Draco hooted. "Look at Potter. Finally learned his own language."

"Fuck you," Harry snarled.

"Well, do it, then!" Draco replied.

Harry took a deep breath. "This isn't like blow jobs," he told Draco nervously.

"Don't worry, Potter, you won't get me pregnant," Draco said sarcastically. "I am most tragically missing a uterus."

"I mean, it's," Harry paused and tried to think of a way to describe it. "More emotionally invest... al."

"Just get it the fuck over with!" Draco yelled.

"You have stuff, right?" Harry said.

"Top drawer," Draco said impatiently.

Harry slid off of Draco, stumbled off of the bed and slammed the top drawer open. Sure enough, there was lube.

"_Slut_," Harry hissed between his teeth.

"Prude," Draco replied, with equally as much venom.

The preparations were quick and fumbly, as Harry was trying to hold himself together long enough to actually do anything.

He began to slide in. It came as a shock to him how tight and claustrophobic it was. Harry's head pounded with various mixed emotions and his skin was clammy with sweat.

Draco let out a small whimper of pleasure, or it might have been pain, Harry had no idea, as he slid farther in. Draco's hips bucked up against him and Harry fought the impending orgasm with all his will.

He only managed to get a tiny bit farther in, Draco making muffled noises with his face pressed against the sheets, before he came, his face scarlet with elation.

Harry's breath shook as he pulled out, Draco pushing himself up and turning to Harry.

They met each other's lips without even thinking about it, and they kissed for seemingly hours, flushed with teenage passion.

"I should go," Harry mumbled. His arm was around Draco, whose skin was cool with dried sweat. "It's late."

"Fine," Draco said back.

"In a minute," Harry amended. "What time is it?"

Draco glanced at his watch. "Nine."

"Jesus, that's late," Harry said, biting his lip.

They lay there for a while longer, though, and not realizing how much they would regret it in the morning, Harry and Draco both fell asleep in the Slytherin dormitory, the Invisiblity cloak by their feet.

* * *

_A/N: Gah, my little Harry's no longer a virgin. *wipes tear*_


	16. Measures Taken

_Tick, tick, tick-tick-tick._

Harry felt himself returning to consciousness.

His eyelids fluttered for a moment and he tried to get a glimpse of his surroundings.

Green... blob.

Damnit. Where were his glasses?

He felt a hand around and was relieved to find them resting on the bedside. Harry slipped them on.

A green blob that very much resembled a bed-curtain.

What the hell was ticking?

He sat up. Draco Malfoy's arm had been lying next to his face. His watch.

Oh.

"Shit," Harry muttered, as the implications of the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains and the snoring from the Slytherins creeping into his ears sank in.

"_Shiiiiit_," Harry repeated, through his teeth this time. "Malfoy," he hissed, shaking the sleeping Draco.

Draco sat up very abruptly, reaching for his wand on the bedside table. "What?" he demanded of Harry. Then he looked around. "Oh," he said with a smirk. "We fell asleep?"

"I'm screwed, I'm screwed," Harry muttered, feeling around for his various items of clothing and the Invisibility Cloak. "I'm screwed. They've got a search party out for me. They're combing the castle."

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter," Draco said with a catlike yawn, folding his arms behind his head, his sleek hair fanning out on the bedsheets like a halo.

Harry snorted. "I'm not. Have you noticed how tight security has been on me this year?"

"I've had other things to notice," Draco said. Harry heard the distinct bite of jealousy in his voice.

"I'm going," Harry whispered, pulling the cloak over his head. On the spur of the moment, he leaned forward and kissed Draco through the gossamer fabric.

Draco felt clumsily around for Harry's chest, then moved his hands up until he was cradling Harry's face, stroking his jawline gently with his experienced fingers, his touch warm even through the cloak.

"I really should be going," Harry said, breaking away from him.

Draco's eyes searched the empty air for something to lock on. "You tease," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "Go, Potter, go and get bawled out by the Weasel and Granger. Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll kill you."

Harry slipped off the bed and out of the dormitory. He checked his watch. Good, it was early, maybe... no, they were going to kill him. They were going to think Voldemort dragged him off and... killed him with... his Transfiguration book, he thought, trying to make himself laugh. But Voldemort held no humor for him.

"Acid Pops," he said to the Fat Lady, pulling off his cloak and stowing it in his bag as soon as he was in front of her.

"And where might have _you_ been, hmm?" she said dubiously, swinging open.

Harry stumbled over to the staircase, still bleary-eyed, over crumpled-up bits of homework and the odd house-elf hat.

He had changed into his pajamas and was pulling the covers over himself when Ron awoke with a particularly loud snore and looked over at him. "Harry?"

Ron's voice had that flat quality of someone who had just woken, so Harry was assured he hadn't stayed up for him. "Yeah?" he replied, trying to pretend he had been there a while.

"Where were you last night, mate?" Ron said, his voice clearer and a lot sharper.

"Er," Harry said. He didn't exactly have a story planned. "I was just flying around on the Firebolt and didn't realize how late it had gotten."

Ron looked at him shrewdly. Harry got the feeling he didn't exactly believe that.

"You shouldn't be out there alone," Ron told him, sitting up.

"You sound like Hermione," Harry said, amused. "Look, I'm fine. Can everyone mind their own business for once?"

He turned around and pretended to sleep for a while, guilt seeping through his body.

* * *

Harry slid his hands in his pockets.

Draco had requested Harry meet him by the lake.

He was standing there, blonde hair whipping in the light April wind, staring over the glassy surface.

Harry approached him and sat down by the edge. Draco followed suit.

"This feels like a trap," Harry said, only half joking.

Draco tugged at some grass like he was four. "I'm too lazy to bother trapping you, Potter."

That was probably as honest as Draco had been with him in five years, Harry thought idly.

"I just get tired of the dungeons," Draco said, falling back against the grass. He looked up at the grey sky above them like it was telling him what to say next. "I don't think anyone will see us. It's late."

A week or so, probably less, had passed since they had sex. Harry had buried himself and homework and Quidditch. He wasn't able to get rid of that feeling, that achy feeling in the pit of stomach.

He wanted to talk to Sirius. Or, at the very least, Ron and Hermione. As he thought that, Harry's throat tightened a little. He had had sex with the one person he couldn't confide in or confide about. How stupid _was_ he?

Draco kept reflexively rubbing the inside of his left forearm. He had been doing that for a while now. Harry knew what it meant, with the way the Dark Mark had burned his eyelids while he slept the entire last summer.

Harry knew what it meant, and he didn't want to. He knew the Dark Mark wasn't there.

But the future and the present could overlap like that.

It wasn't there.

Yet.

Harry lay back against the grass and stared up at the sky along with Draco.


	17. De Facto

"Your OWLs," said McGonagall, surveying the class with a stern eye, "are nigh upon us."

Harry, who had been doodling pictures of veelas and the world exploding on a spare bit of parchment, looked up.

Hermione had been awfully frazzled the last few weeks, and she made a small, desperate noise upon hearing this statement.

"We know," Dean Thomas complained, "we've got enough homework to keep the castle fireplaces going for weeks."

Titters spread across the room.

McGonagall looked at him steelily, then directed her gaze at Ron, who took his feet off his desk with an apologetic grin.

"So," she continued, "if anyone needs extra help..."

Everyone turned and looked at Neville, who was sitting on a small shrub that had started out as a chair at the beginning of the lesson.

At that moment the bell rang. McGonagall shouted over it, "Just come to see me!" as everyone began hurriedly collecting their bags and heading to lunch.

"Can you believe our final match is next week?" Ron said glumly as they navigated the sea of people in the corridor.

"What?" Harry said, alarmed. "It is?"

"You've been talking about it for weeks, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Even I knew!"

"Oh, er," Harry said, his attention shifting to Draco discussing something with Blaise Zabini across the hallway. He got a funny little tingle in his stomach.

_Stop it_, Harry told himself. _This is not like Cho. You're not _dating _Malfoy, for Christ's sake_.

Draco caught his eye and gave him a tiny smirk as if to say, _Yeah, I know you're looking at me, Potter_.

Harry quickly tuned back into the conversation Ron and Hermione were having.

"--you just don't understand how important Quidditch is to a lot of people, Hermione," Ron was arguing.

Hermione sighed. "Well, of course I don't," she snapped, "I'm a stupid _girl_, aren't I?"

Ron sighed in an even more agitated manner. "Harry, will you please tell her?"

"Yeah," Harry responded. Then after a moment, "Tell her what?"

"Harry, where is your head lately?" Hermione said.

"He's got a girl," Fred said, popping up out of nowhere, George at his heels.

"Yeah, we know that face," George said, pinching Harry's cheeks. Harry slapped his hand.

"I don't have a girl," Harry replied truthfully.

Fred shrugged. "Or a secret hobby."

"Or he's been wanking a lot," George added.

"George!" Harry and Ron exclaimed simultaneously, with equal inflections of angry embarrassment.

"It's rubbish that the D.A.'s gone," Fred said as they entered the Great Hall. "I'm thinking after the last Quidditch match, we're going to be out of here."

"What?" Hermione demanded. "What about your NEWTs?"

"NEWTs," George proclaimed, "are for duffers. And Umbridge is just about on my last nerve, anyway. Practically holed up as headmaster in her frilly little office. Poor old Dumbledore. No control over his own school anymore. I don't know why he doesn't leave."

"But," Hermione said, "how are you going to get a..."

"Job?" Fred picked up. "What do you think we've been doing all year, Hermione? Testing our products."

"Testing," she repeated.

George grinned at her. "Don't worry yourself about us, Hermione."

And they were off through the crowd.

"I don't get them at all," Hermione grumbled as she sat down.

"Me neither," Ron admitted.

"I think it's great," Harry said staunchly, "they're going to make people laugh. Like I've said all along, we're going to need a few laughs."

He was about to take a bite of shepherd's pie when he caught Draco's blazing, grey-eyed gaze from across the Great Hall.

"Jesus Christ," Harry said, his fork falling to his place. He was going to have a heart attack one of these days, he was sure of it.

Ron and Hermione were so conditioned to Harry's recent odd behaviors (probably chalking it up to Voldemort nerves, he thought) that they didn't even notice and continued their argument about Quidditch.

* * *

"Ravenclaw's going to win," Draco told Harry. His pale hand was pressed against Harry's chest and Harry felt his own heart beat against it.

He was sort of glad that the dungeons were their _de facto _meeting place, since it had been so warm lately. Draco probably didn't even notice. He was one of those boys that only sweated in private.

This gave Harry a rather indecent thought, and he played around with it a bit, his lips crooking with a leering smile.

"Good to know," Harry said. "I've never lost a match, you know."

"Diggory," Draco replied.

"That was a fluke, there were dementors," Harry argued. He had never quite gotten over the loss of his Nimbus.

Draco snorted with laughter, probably thinking about Harry's boggart. Harry flicked him on the bare chest.

"Hey," Draco complained. They were both lying sideways, facing each other, the space between them closing slowly.

Harry grinned again.


	18. Chicanery

Deny, deny, deny.

It was surprisingly easy.

Harry thought it was partly because no one knew but them, and that made it easy to pretend it wasn't going on.

It was going on, though.

Deny, deny, deny, repress, repress, repress.

He hadn't opened the box in his mind, his sexuality, tied up with a ribbon and looming larger in his consciousness daily.

So he ran and flew.

It was obvious they were going to beat Ravenclaw. Angelina said so, every time he saw her, "We're going to beat Ravenclaw, Harry, I'm sure of it." And Harry believed her because it seemed the only thing that made sense anymore.

He had never lost a fair match.

They would beat Ravenclaw.

He was not gay.

"So you're head of the Prat Squad."

"Didn't you know?" Draco said, putting the Inquisitoral Squad badge on his dresser.

Draco had most likely noticed how antsy Harry was, because he was just coming on stronger. That was so damn _Malfoy_ that Harry wanted to smack him.

"I don't get the point of having a Head Prat," Harry said. He was lounging around on Draco's bed -- he had realized, with a jolt, he felt more comfortable in it than he did in his own -- and Draco seemed not to want to sit down or commit to anything. Harry had some homework to do but he figured he'd leave it until he could concentrate. "I thought Umbridge was the, y'know, the _fuhrer._"

"It just means that if she were to unexpectedly die, I would tell everyone when to take points from Gryffindor and who to trip in the hallways," Draco explained.

Harry rolled on his back so that Draco was upside down. Draco moved Harry's inky hair away from his forehead and kissed him on the lips, then trailed his tongue down Harry's jaw and his Adam's Apple.

Harry grabbed Draco's upside down arms but Draco shook him off, removing Harry's shirt with a few quick movements and tossing it in a crumpled heap to the side of the bed. He teased Harry's nipples and Harry closed his eyes tightly against the barrage of images flooding his mind.

"We're going to beat Ravenclaw," Harry muttered, more to himself than anyone.

"I don't doubt it," Draco said. "Chang's worse than you are. If she can stop crying long enough to mount her broom."

Harry didn't laugh. It wasn't really his place to.

"How was it?" Harry murmured.

Draco paused for a minute. "What?"

"How was the sex, honestly?" Harry said, knowing that Draco would always be honest with him if it were negative.

"Quick," Draco replied, settling himself on the bed.

"I know," Harry said. "I was there. Was I okay?"

"Potter, I don't really have anyone to compare with," Draco said. "Why are you so concerned?"

"I, er," Harry mumbled, fiddling with the blanket, "Just... wanted to know if it was better for me than it was for you."

Draco seemed to puzzle this out for a minute. Then he snorted with laughter. "You want to know if you're better in bed than I am?"

"No!" Harry said, a bit too loudly. Draco shushed him.

"We could find out," Draco said, kneeling above Harry, looking at him with avarice.

"I'm not letting you fuck me," Harry said.

"Come on," Draco wheedled.

"I have a Quidditch match on Saturday, how the hell am I going to sit on my broom?"

Draco smirked and bit his lip. "Should I care?"

Harry didn't respond, so Draco continued: "Maybe I should wait until you're asleep and have my way with you."

"How would we compare, then?" Harry said.

"I'd wake you up once I was in and you couldn't do anything about it," Draco said.

"I don't know how heavy a sleeper _you_ are, Malfoy, but I think I'd notice someone trying to fuck me."

"You're no fun, Potter," Draco said, flopping next to him. "At all."

Harry just laughed.

_They were going to beat Ravenclaw. _

_

* * *

_

_A/N: Er, before I added the A/N, this chapter was 666 words. CREEPY. AND SHORT. SORRY. D:  
_

_Lots of plot next time! Keep one eye on your email inbox and one eye on the road. (also, don't get strep from this chapter. I may have it. Hence the update during scholarly hours.)  
_


	19. Imperious

_A/N: Excuse any grammatical errors -- this chapter was a bitch to write. But ooh, lookit all the plot. P.S. I was trying not to get TOO canon and steal the words out of Jo's mouth, but I fail'd a bit. So I apologize.  
_

_

* * *

  
_

Professor McGonagall was right, and their OWLs were there before anyone expected them.

Harry didn't know how he _hadn't_, with Hermione color-coding and copying notes and hitting Ron and Harry over the head with books and giving enormously frustrated sighs at random intervals in the common room.

But they had snuck up on him.

He had studied, of course, rigorously, until his brain turned into mush and Ron had fallen asleep on his Charms notes and was snoring loudly and with impeccable pitch.

The end of April and May had passed in a blur. They did win the match, and the Quidditch cup, and the celebratory party had lasted long into the night.

During it, George and Fred had swarmed Harry.

"Listen, mate," Fred said, clapping him on the shoulder, "Thanks. A lot. We couldn't be doing this without you."

"Doing what?" Harry said. He was a bit tipsy from whatever the hell they were drinking (butterbeer cut with mead, he thought) and the room seemed to spin in a whirl of red, gold, and lots of people -- _lots_ of people.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," George supplied. "So we'll be going in the next few days or so, here."

"What?" Harry had said. "Wait--"

"We're going to go out with a bang," Fred assured him. "Umbridge won't know what hit her. Actually, she might, and that'll be the real kicker. So if we leave without saying goodbye, just know that we're immensely grateful, here."

"Couldn't have done it without you," George added.

"Well, thanks," Harry said, watching them disappear back into the crowd, shouting general terms of merriment. The big, swarming red and gold crowd cheered unanimously.

And leave with a bang, they had. Umbridge was still finding fireworks in random places in the castle.

They were all studying night and day; the entire castle, really. People read books while walking in the hallways and bumped into people doing the exact same thing.

As a matter of fact, Draco Malfoy seemed to be the only person not studying, and this infuriated Harry to almost no end -- especially since he had been no help to Harry with Potions.

Harry would catch his eye whenever he spotted Draco lurking or prancing through the hallways, or any sort of movement that struck his fancy, and Draco just gave him that knowing smirk.

Harry was weakening, and he knew it. That little smirk that had once filled him with rage now made his heart flutter. Like he was a girl.

He had noticed that Draco didn't seem to be fooling around with anyone but him, which was sort of flattering and terrifying all at once. It meant he wanted Harry around enough to change. He had ribbed Draco about it once, calling him a one-man man or something and Draco had just mouthed off about Harry being a dumb prude and not knowing anything about how people operated. But Harry knew a lot more than Draco thought he did; especially when it came to Draco himself.

Occlumency had, for the better part, ended.

Harry had been able to keep Snape at bay from any Draco memories, so Snape had told him quite frankly that they were done with Occlumency lessons and to practice every night.

Hermione wasn't very pleased with this decision.

"Harry, he _can't_ stop teaching you!" she said, slamming her Transfiguration book shut so hard that several people in the common room looked over in alarm, saw it was Hermione, and went back to what they were doing.

"Well, apparently he thinks I can manage well enough on my own now," Harry muttered, trying to keep his eyes open as he pored over his History of Magic notes for the umpteenth time.

"_Can_ you?" she demanded.

"Er," Harry replied. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to divulge here. "S -- sort of."

Hermione snorted with contempt.

"Hey," Harry said, "it's my business, okay?"

"Stop bothering him, Hermione," Ron muttered, running a hand through his russet hair and flipping a page in his Charms notes.

"Hmmph," was all Hermione said.

His Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL, Harry felt, was a spectacular success. The others he wasn't so sure about.

His last OWL, History of Magic, took place in the afternoon.

Harry's scar had been prickling for days, and it came on full force that morning.

They entered the Great Hall at two on the dot and sat at their assigned places. Professor Marchbanks gave a small speech on cheating and how strictly prohibited it was, and then told them to turn over their papers.

Harry read the first question what must have been twelve times; it just wasn't sinking in. He picked up his quill and began to underline words he thought were important.

_Damnit_, he thought. He should have studied more, he had been focusing too much on Transfiguration and Potions...

Professor Marchbanks began to stroll up the aisles. Someone's watch ticked.

_How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749..._ _measures taken..._ ?

He didn't know.

Harry shut his eyes, put his arms on his desk and put his head down. The pain in his scar receded slightly.

_Think_, he told himself.

He was walking down the corridor to the Department of Mysteries. This time, he knew what he was doing, he knew what was at the end of the corridor; the black door swung open.

There were many doors and Harry studied them all imperiously. The third door, that was it. It swung open for him and he slipped through, cat-like.

The enormous room full of shelves and glasses spheres -- they were small, would fit in the palm of your hand, and they were all labeled neatly and individually. His heart sped up.

When at last he found number ninety-seven, he turned and strolled down that row.

There was someone lying at the far end. Harry's stomach was in his throat. His scar, outside of the dream, began to burn white-hot.

Coldly, Harry said, (but it couldn't be Harry, his subconscious thought, that wasn't Harry's voice...) "Take it for me, please. I cannot touch it."

The person lying there made a move as if to get up, but did not. Harry's patience snapped. His hand rose (but it was long and white and not Harry's hand) and he shrieked, "_Crucio!"_

The person writhed with pain and cried out.

"Lord Voldemort's patience grows thin," Harry said.

The person turned to face Harry, his features set grimly.

"You'll have to kill me," Sirius Black croaked to Voldemort.

"Surely I will," said the cold voice. "But I need this done first... I have all the time in the world, Black, but most unfortunately, you do not."

Screaming rang in Harry's ears as his own hand lowered a wand, the hot sun glowing on the person's head as they fell off their chair and onto the floor of the Great Hall, clutching their scar and screaming like they would never stop, and the Great Hall erupted.


	20. Said It All

"I -- I'm all right," Harry spluttered to Professor Tofty, who was holding onto his arm rather tightly, looking worried and slightly alarmed.

The Great Hall around them was silent. Every eye was on Harry. Professor Tofty led Harry out of the Great Hall and they stood next to the enormous doors, on the brink of entry.

"I fell asleep," Harry said by way of explanation -- damnit, he had to get out of here and get out of here _now_, tell them _anything_ -- "I had a nightmare, I'm fine, just..."

"Exam stress," Professor Tofty wheezed, "gets to the best of us. Perhaps a trip to the hospital wing, or a short walk, and you can come back and finish the test?"

"I, uh, yes," Harry gibbered, "I think I'm done, though, I just need some fresh air --"

"All right," Tofty said lightly, "I'll go get your paper, and you can go outside for a moment?"

"Yes, that," Harry said, slipping out of the examiner's grip. "Thank you."

As soon as Professor Tofty was out of his sight, he barreled down the hallway toward Dumbledore's office.

When he slid to a stop in front of it, he spotted Snape leaving. Snape surveyed him nastily.

"What are you doing out of your exam, Potter?" Snape said.

"I need to see the headmaster," Harry panted.

"The headmaster is not available, Potter," Snape replied.

_Bullshit_, Harry thought. "I'll wait until he's available, then," he snapped.

"You'll do no such thing," Snape hissed. "Get back to your common room immediately or I will single-handedly make sure you have detention until the summer."

Ron and Hermione, Harry thought, and as he did he began to run down the hallway opposite Snape.

He was on his way to the Fat Lady, but he had no need to be. In the middle of the hallway, amidst the crowd, Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Harry!" she exclaimed worriedly. "What's going on? What happened?"

Ron opened his mouth but Harry bit out, "Follow me" before he could say anything, and dragged Ron and Hermione into the nearest empty classroom.

"Voldemort has Sirius in the Department of Mysteries," Harry said.

"_What_?" Hermione demanded, while Ron stood there looking shell-shocked. "How--" he began.

"I fell asleep in the exam and had -- like, a vision, like with Ron's dad, and he's in the Ministry Of Magic, Voldemort's going to kill him, but he needs something from him first--"

Hermione was goggling at him.

Harry fell into the chair next to him, trembling all over. "Well, how are we getting there?"

"Get -- what?" Ron said.

"To the Department Of Mysteries!" Harry yelled.

"What?" Hermione said in a tiny voice.

Ron gaped at him. "Harry," he said.

"Dumbledore's 'unavailable'!" Harry yelled. "We -- he's in the -- we need the Order, but they're not here!"

"McGonagall?" Ron offered.

"She's not here," Hermione said immediately. "I looked for her before my test. Harry, are you sure --"

"What?" Harry demanded.

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, you said yourself this was a dream..."

"I fell asleep!" Harry shouted. "That doesn't make it a dream!"

Ron sat on one of the desks. "Mate, listen," he said.

"No, you listen!" Harry said. "What about your dad? You didn't say it was a dream, then!"

"I..." Ron trailed off and was silent.

"It's the Department of Mysteries, I know for a fact he's there, I saw him --"

"Harry," Hermione said, "this sounds like a trap."

Her words dropped flat.

"What are you talking about, a trap?" Harry snapped angrily. "Listen, all I know is, we're sitting here, he could be dead any minute!"

"Harry, listen, you --" Hermione stopped herself. "How would Sirius be in the Department of Mysteries?"

"I don't know!" Harry said, his voice rising again.

"Maybe he went outside and Voldemort grabbed him," Ron said worriedly.

"That's not explaining anything," Hermione said slowly. "Harry, what if this is just Voldemort using Sirius to get you where he wants you? I mean--"

"HERMIONE, WE'RE JUST SITTING HERE WHILE --" Harry slammed his fist down on a table. Hermione jumped away. Harry's hand reverberated with pain.

"We've got to find a way to make sure it was really him," Hermione said quickly.

The classroom door creaked open. Ginny and Luna poked their heads in.

"We heard Harry yelling," Ginny said cautiously.

"Go away," Harry said candidly.

Ginny gave him an appraising look. "What the hell is going on, anyway?"

"Nothing you should concern yourself about," Harry snapped.

"Wait," Hermione said. "Hold on, Harry, they could help us. We need to ensure that Sirius is actually not at Grimmauld Place --"

"Which we have," Harry said through his teeth.

"No, Harry, please," Hermione said desperately. "We can't just go off -- I mean, I understand you're worried, but we can't just go running off to the Ministry, I -- we need to know this isn't a trap before we run right into it!"

"You don't understand!" Harry shouted. "I can't just--"

"Umbridge's fire," Hermione said. "We'll try to contact him. Ginny and Luna can be lookouts, and we'll..."

Ginny nodded, although she had an utterly bemused look on her face.

"Fine," Harry said acidly to Hermione. "How are we doing this?"

Hermione began to explain.

"... and we'll need to keep everyone away from her office..."

Ginny said something about Garroting Gas that Harry barely heard. He was too wound up.

"... only about five minutes," Hermione said nervously.

"That's enough," Harry said. "Let's go."

"N-now?" Hermione said.

"YES, NOW," Harry said.

"Oh... fine!" she snapped. "Go get the Invisibility Cloak, I'll meet you at the end of her corridor..."

* * *

The lock clicked open as Harry slid Sirius's knife into it.

The afternoon sun was gleaming through the windows of Umbridge's office. Everything was still and silent.

"I thought she'd have more security," Hermione whispered, sounding relieved.

Harry grabbed the pot of Floo Powder as soon as Hermione had tossed the cloak to the side and tossed a handful into the fire. He fell to his knees, put his head in the fire and yelled "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

He was looking into the kitchen. It was deserted. Panic rose in his throat.

"Sirius!" he yelled.

There was shuffling somewhere near the fireplace. Kreacher appeared in front of him.

"Oh look, it's Potter," Kreacher said, twisting his hands around and looking oddly amused.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry snapped.

"Master of the house has stepped out for a bit, Potter boy," Kreacher said with a creepy grin.

"Where? _Where?"_ Harry demanded.

Kreacher just laughed and began to lurch away.

"Kreacher, damn you -- where --"

Suddenly Harry felt a horribly painful tugging at his skull, like his hair was being pulled out with pliers. Choking on smoke, he found himself staring into the wide, pallid face of Dolores Umbridge.

"Did you think I hadn't added extra security after I found fourteen damn fireworks lurking in my private office?" she hissed, pulling his head back further. Harry heard someone make a noise by the doorway. There was scuffling.

"Take their wands," Umbridge ordered someone who was out of Harry's line of sight, which was strictly limited to the ceiling right now.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Umbridge demanded, a crazed gleam in her eye. "Who are you communicating with?"

"Nobody," Harry said, struggling in her grip. She shoved him away from her and his knees slammed to the stone floor. He staggered to his feet.

Millicent Bulstrode had Hermione in a sort of half nelson, and outlined against the wall were Slytherins holding Ginny, Ron and Luna captive.

Draco was leaning against the office wall, twirling Harry's wand in his fingers. Harry's eyes lit upon him.

Draco mouthed "nice job" at him. Harry just turned away.

"So, Potter," Umbridge said quietly. "You stationed lookouts outside my office while you communicated with someone illegally in my office. It must have been an important conversation."

"Yeah?" Harry snarled.

"I think, Mr. Potter, it would aid you to tell me who you were talking to," Umbridge said smoothly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Draco had begun to toss Harry's wand in the air and catch it.

"That's none of your business," Harry snapped.

"Oh, isn't it?" she said sycophantically. "I think we shall loosen your tongue a bit, then, Potter --"

And then Harry turned just in time to see Draco lose his grip -- although it looked like it was well within his grasp -- on Harry's wand.

It sailed through the air and landed directly at Harry's feet.

There was a horrible, cold silence.

Harry, acting on impulse, snatched the wand off the ground, wheeled around, and shouted "_STUPEFY_!"

The red bolt of light hit Umbridge directly in the chest, and her slack face rose in surprise the moment before she hit the ground, unconscious.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, and Harry turned.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Millicent Bullstrode thudded to the ground.

The larger Slytherins grabbed for their wands, but it was too late -- Hermione had her wand back, and she and Harry stunned both Ginny and Luna's captors.

The only Slytherin left standing was Draco, who shot Harry a desperate look.

Ron rose his wand to Draco's chest. "_Stu_--"

"Wait," Harry said suddenly, "don't."

Everyone stared at him.

"We might need him," Harry said, aware that made no sense at all.

"What the bloody hell _for_?" Ron snapped.

Draco made a derisive noise. Ron shook him by the shirt. "Shut the fuck up, Malfoy."

But Harry was no longer concerned -- he dove for the fire, threw Floo Powder in it, and shouted "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" again.

He was going to find out where Sirius was.

* * *

_A/N: Whoa, chapter rhino. Sorry for the canonity of it all! I didn't want to just be like "AND THEN THEY WERE SUDDENLY IN UMBRIDGE'S OFFICE HURR HURR", though. Luckily next chapter will be less canon -- very less canon, with more Drarry action -- and possibly the last chapter! :O Of course, there will be a sequel, so fret not. (If you were fretting at all)._


	21. Spited

"Sirius!" Harry yelled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place as soon as it appeared in front of him. "SIRIUS!"

His knees ached from kneeling on the stone floor twice.

Harry heard footfalls in the kitchen and his stomach leapt.

"Harry?" Sirius said, knitting his eyebrows, appraising Harry's head in his fire.

"Oh thank God," Harry said with a sigh. Relief spread through every inch of him.

"Harry, what's going on?" Sirius said, his voice sharp.

"I... I saw you... Where were you a few minutes ago?"

"Buckbeak hurt himself," Sirius said. "_What's going on_?" he repeated, a slight growl to his voice.

"I saw Voldemort," Harry said, and Sirius twitched reflexively. "In the Department of Mysteries. He was torturing you. He was going to kill you."

Harry's voice was harsh now, angry at Sirius for putting him through this, though he knew it wasn't his fault.

Sirius knelt in front of the fire. "You saw this?"

"In my head," Harry said. "I had a vision. Like with Mr. Weasley. I guess this time it was a trap," he said bitterly. Hermione had been right, and he had been foolish and brash.

"Harry," Sirius said. "Voldemort wants you to go to the Ministry?"

"I dunno," Harry said. His knees were aching in earnest now, and all he wanted to do was go lie down. His scar was throbbing.

Sirius looked up at the ceiling like there was an answer there. When he turned back to Harry, his face was set.

"Listen," Sirius said softly, with a bit of urgency behind his voice, "Harry, you need to go to Dumbledore, right now, and tell him Voldemort wanted you to go to the Ministry. Did you see anyone else there?"

"Aren't you going to yell at me for not doing Occlumency?" said Harry, unsettled by the shift from normalcy.

"Did you see Death Eaters?" Sirius said.

"No," Harry replied.

"Where are you right now?" Sirius said.

"I'm in Umbridge's office," Harry said.

A slow grin appeared on Sirius's face. "How'd you manage that? Wait, no, go, Harry, go to Dumbledore right now, he'll know what this means --"

"You think Voldemort's at the Ministry? The Department of Mysteries?" Harry said.

"I don't know," Sirius said, and something dark flashed in his eyes.

"Okay," Harry said, and pulled his head out of the fire.

The room swam before his eyes for a minute, and then Ron, Draco and Hermione appeared before his eyes. Hermione looked worried sick. Draco looked very nettled at Ron's wand still being pointed at his chest. Ron also had Draco by the sleeve, and he looked at Harry with a mix of expectation and dread.

"He was there," Harry said, and saying it out loud relieved more of the horrible feeling that had been constricting his chest for the last hour.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said, and she hugged him so tightly he could hardly breathe for it.

"We need to go to Dumbledore, Sirius said," Harry said when Hermione had released him. "Where are Ginny and Luna?"

"Standing guard," Ron said. "So no one else would come in."

Draco snorted with contempt. Ron shook him roughly again.

"Why..." Hermione said. Then understanding fluttered on her face. "Oh, Harry," she whispered. "There must have been a reason they wanted you down there..."

"They?" Ron said sharply.

"Voldemort," Harry said, and everyone in the room flinched, save for those unconscious, "and... Death Eaters, I guess... I didn't see anyone, though--"

Draco made a convulsive movement that he tried to pass off as a cough, and at that moment, Harry was fairly certain Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry.

"Let's go," Harry said. Then he raised his wand. _"Stupefy!"_

He watched as Draco went limp, his grey eyes rolling in their sockets. Ron dropped him (Harry's stomach tightened slightly with guilt, and he wished momentarily that he could have caught Draco) and they left Umbridge's office. Ron made sure to kick Umbridge in the head a little on their way out.

The trip to Dumbledore's was worrying, as they looked very suspicious. At first, Ginny and Luna had insisted on coming with them, but Harry had thanked them quickly for keeping lookout and Hermione had said it would be less conspicuous if Ginny and Luna just went back to their respective common rooms.

"Here we are," Harry panted, skidding to a stop in front of the stone gargoyle. "Er..."

"Fizzing Whizbee," Hermione said, and it opened.

"Harry, I think you should go," Ron said. "You're the one who saw it, and... we're just going to get in trouble, Snape's going to come along --"

Hermione nodded and she and Ron were gone.

Harry slipped in, up the spiral staircase, and knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Harry did so.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, looking over various papers. He looked up and surveyed Harry with a mildly bemused expression.

"Sir," Harry said. "Sirius told me to see you."

Dumbledore looked even more bemused, but he disguised it well. "Sit down, please, Harry."

Harry sat and told Dumbledore everything, from the moment he had fallen asleep in the History of Magic OWL onward. Dumbledore nodded occasionally and didn't look Harry in the eyes very much, which stirred the bitterness he had been nursing the entire year.

Dumbledore held up a hand when Harry reached the part about the glass balls lining the shelves. His face went very blank right then, and he glanced at his Pensieve.

When Harry finished, he muttered, "You don't think... I've been having these dreams all year, Professor, I think... I don't think he was just using it... I think he wanted me down there -- I mean, I got the feeling Voldemort was there."

Dumbledore did not smile or speak. He only inclined his head a tiny bit.

"Harry," he said quietly, "I suggest you go back to your common room."

"But sir," Harry said.

"Harry, I understand you would like to know what's going on," Dumbledore said, "and I assure you that I will do my best to illuminate you at a later time, but at this moment, please go back to the common room. If you have any more dreams, please go to Professor McGonagall."

Harry sat there, his scar burning and his stomach turning. "Why can't I come to you?"

"I am afraid," Dumbledore said, standing up, his white beard flowing like silk over his robes, "that I may be unavailable for the next few hours."

He smiled at Harry, though he only met his eyes for a moment, and Harry stood up as well, and turned to leave.

* * *

_A/N: Decided to break this up into two parts._


	22. Spited, Part Two

Harry continued to pace in front of the unlit fireplace of the Gryffindor common room.

"I don't get it," he announced for the fourth time that hour.

"Harry," said Hermione quietly, putting down her book, "please sit down. There's nothing you can do. They're not going to tell us what's going on."

Harry glanced around the common room, rubbing his forehead. The Gryffindors had been shepherded back here, to their great dismay, and everyone was sitting around discussing it. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had seperated themselves from the throng to talk, but Harry couldn't sit down or concentrate.

"I can't sit here and do nothing, Hermione," Harry said, and his scar gave another painful twinge. He shut his eyes.

"Look, you know what I think?" Ron said, stretching. "We think the Order's at the Ministry, right?"

Harry began to speak but stopped. Umbridge's voice was seeping into the common room from, presumably, right outside the Fat Lady.

"--expelled, immediately!" she shrieked.

"Dolores," they heard McGonagall say testily, "you cannot go barging into _my_ House and punishing students willy-nilly!"

"Attacked me and several students, Minevra! I will not stand for this ridiculous favoritism of Potter and his minions--"

Everyone in the common room whipped around and stared at Harry.

"I have it on good information from a Slytherin student that you were prepared to use an Unforgivable Curse on them! On _students_, Dolores! How dare you?" they heard McGonagall yell.

"What Slytherin student?" they heard Umbridge hiss.

Harry grinned to himself. What Slytherin student, indeed.

"Rest assured, they will be punished, but... come with me..." and McGonagall's voice faded away.

Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Blimey," he said.

Hermione sighed. "This is all so upsetting," she said. "We attacked a teacher..."

"I attacked a teacher," Harry clarified, "and I don't think we'll be in trouble..." he lowered his voice. "I think Dumbledore, y'know, gets it... It's his fault he wasn't 'available' in the first place..."

"Where do you think he was?" Hermione said suddenly.

Harry took in a breath. The buzz of conversation in the common room had returned, this time even louder. "No idea," he admitted. His scar continued to burn, and his eyes were hot with exhaustion and stress. He sat down on the couch next to Hermione and wished, fleetingly, that he could sleep, but he was still too filled with adrenaline.

"Too much going on this year," Harry muttered.

Ron made a noise of agreement.

* * *

"Harry. Harry."

Harry awoke with a start to Hermione shaking him by the shoulders.

Early morning light was filtering in the common room, and it appeared to be deserted. He was confused. Did they go back in time? he wondered, thinking of third year, then realizing that he had slept through the night.

"Harry, Dumbledore wants to see you," she whispered, and she looked rather grim. "I don't know what... what happened last night -- Harry, I think it was bad, I don't know yet, I haven't got the paper, he sent someone down here and I think there was... I think something awful happened."

Harry grabbed her arm. "Dumbledore wants to see me?" he repeated. His head was still swimming, having just got up, and her expression was rather unnerving. It was too early in the morning for bad news.

"Yes," she said, "and go under the cloak."

He got the cloak from his bedside quickly.

The entire way to Dumbledore's, his chest pounded. What could have happened? Had they confronted Voldemort? Had someone... his stomach turned nastily.

Harry removed the cloak and knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Harry slipped into his office. "Sir," he said uneasily.

"Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry hadn't seen his face look like this since Cedric had died. His stomach did another unpleasant flop.

"Please sit down," Dumbledore said. "I'm afraid I have some..."

Bad news. Oh, God.

Dumbledore sighed wearily. Somehow, he looked years older than he had last night.

"There was a battle, Harry," he said. "At the Ministry. There had been some suspicious things happening there this afternoon, and when you told me about your vision..."

Harry nodded. He felt rather sick.

"Harry, Sirius defied my request and joined us in the battle against Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

Harry didn't like the way Dumbledore's face had dropped when he said Sirius's name. He didn't like it at all.

Dumbledore put his hand on top of Harry's. "He got into battle with Bellatrix Lestrange," he continued.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore. "No," he said loudly.

Dumbledore just sighed.

* * *

Draco Malfoy entered the empty classroom Harry had requested he meet him in.

The castle had been in a state of turmoil for the last week. So had the Ministry.

Finding out Harry and Dumbledore had been right all along, the terror that had swept the wizarding world at the implications of this, the endless Daily Prophet articles.

Harry didn't care. He couldn't care anymore. Sirius was dead. How could he ever care about anything again?

There was a chasm in him, an abyss.

Draco made a small noise in his throat. He was very pale.

"My father is in jail," Draco said, his voice rippling with an undercurrent of anger.

Harry just stared at the desk he was sitting at.

Draco threw the Daily Prophet he was holding to Harry.

An article had been outlined in ink. Something about Death Eaters being jailed. It was next to an article with Harry's face in it about him being a hero.

Harry let out a bitter laugh. A year too late.

"Potter," Draco said.

"Malfoy," Harry said, "excuse me, but..."

He flipped to the obituaries and shoved the paper off of the desk.

Draco grabbed his left forearm. "He's back," he drawled. "You know what that means, right?"

Harry didn't answer. He didn't have to. They both knew.

The war had begun.

**FIN**

* * *

_A/N: ... :O_

_Do you want to kill me? Heck, _I_ want to kill me. _

_Sequel should be up by tomorrow. It will be entitled "Justice Over Mercy." It takes place two years ahead in time, with even more Drarry shenanigans, Auror-ing, and a cat! So keep your eye out.  
_


End file.
